


Darkest Light

by Wafflesrock



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Friendship, Smut, True Love, Vaginal Sex, reapers - Freeform, shape-shifter sex, turians as shadow wraiths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflesrock/pseuds/Wafflesrock
Summary: The Reapers are a blight upon the land, infecting and corrupting all life. The only ones immune to the onslaught are the turians - ancient creatures of old magic and shadow who dwell within the Abyssal Forest. Commander Jenna Shepard is willing to journey into the bowels of the trees, to places deep and black, in search of answers - but do Garrus and his people hold the key to saving everyone?
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 153
Kudos: 141





	1. The Abyssal Forest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squiggly_squid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggly_squid/gifts).



From the outside, the Abyssal Forest looked like an ordinary, densely packed wood. It wasn’t until venturing deeper into the trees, which became bigger and taller with every step, that the forest’s name made sense; no light seeped through the canopy of cloying leaves and knotted branches. There was only pitch and oppressive, obsidian darkness. 

In the dim light of their torches, a perpetual drizzle of brittle, bleached leaves floated to the ground. These remnants from the world above looked more like ash than anything that had once been green or lush. They fell without sound, the only indication they’d existed at all the faint puffs of smoke that erupted under heavy footfalls.

Jenna had stopped brandishing her torch at every creak or groan that echoed in the ether. The darkness was familiar, now. Though, it ate at her perception of place and time; what were those concepts in a forest born of black magic and whispers? 

Wrex seemed accustomed to the gloom, possessing superior senses of hearing and smell - but the rigid line of his back spoke to unvoiced anxiety and nerves. He grunted in response to the things that lurked beyond the reach of their torches’ meager flames, but otherwise remained silently alert. 

The animals were formed differently here. In the realm of eternal midnight, eyes were unnecessary. Creatures with translucent skin and flesh covered sockets that still remembered the shape of orbs crawled upon earth corrupted by roots, or leaped from tree trunks with heavy sounding thuds.

“How do turians navigate without eyes?” Jenna asked Wrex as what looked like a pale, faceless squirrel fled before her light. “Are their other senses heightened?”

The krogan made a sound somewhere between a hum and a growl, armored feet weaving through the catacomb of roots and upturned stone, a dusty trail following in his wake. “They can see,” he answered. “Their vision is different from ours. The shaman used to say that they saw people as _ auroras of blazing color.”  _ Wrex scrunched his fingers into air quotes as he spoke. 

“What do you mean?” Jenna frowned, hand instinctively coming to rest on the pommel of her sword.

“Dunno,” Wrex replied with a shrug. “Instead of shapes, they see your soul. Or something like that.”

“And they know how to stop the Reapers?” Skepticism dripped from her voice like sap bleeding from a cut tree. The hallucinations of krogan shaman and half-glimpsed eternities of asari matriarchs seemed a thin thread with which to weave any hope. But it was all they had. 

The Reapers weren’t an army so much as a blight; colossal, pulsing, insectoid monsters of molten indigo and steel chitin that fell from the sky and burrowed deep into the earth, corrupting the land and all who walked upon it. 

“Turians are bred from the same old magic as the Reapers,” Wrex stated matter of factly. “You know as much as I do. Maybe more. Since legend says turians are attracted to human voices.”

Jenna snorted. Wrex had suggested she sing yesterday. She’d rolled her eyes, declaring that tale a load of shit. But, the longer they waded through this earthen tomb, no destination or real plan in place, the more people were turned into soulless zombies - human, krogan, salarian, asari, volus - no one was safe. The husks of the blighted still screamed in Jenna’s ears, flashes of Eden Prime seething with living corpses wavering in her mind's eye. They’d been people, once. With hopes and dreams all their own. They had no volition now, no course, except to tear and hack and maim.

Jenna blinked away the waking nightmare and stared impotently into the maw of black they’d been swallowed by days ago; willing victims in search of answers they weren’t sure they’d ever find. Kaidan had called it a fool's errand and he was probably right - nobody who entered the Abyssal Forest ever came back out. Of course, not even the eldest of asari could recall the last time anyone had ventured into the malevolent wood.

Only Wrex had supported the decision and volunteered to accompany Jenna on her quest for information. Watching Tuchanka struggle to fend off the blight, his people perishing in inglorious undeath, had made the krogan leader desperate. The turians were supposedly immune to the Reapers. If they would share their magic - or whatever it was - maybe the krogan and everyone else still had a chance. With a heavy sigh, Jenna started to hum.  _ If  _ the legends were true, perhaps she could call out a magical helper.

No one had seen a turian in thousands of years. Stories varied wildly on what the shadow wraiths looked like since they allegedly possessed no corporal form. They bent with the twilight, assuming monolithic size at dusk, or else leaked through holes in roofs as a thick, poisonous sludge. Shape-shifters, cloaked in shade.

The turians had retreated into the ancient forest eons ago. Some declared it their ancestral home. If that was true, Jenna wasn’t sure how much they knew of the Reapers - or the world outside their onyx wood. Did they even care about those beyond their borders?

She somehow didn’t feel like humming anymore. Instead she took to muttering the song lyrics under her breath. Wrex glanced over his shoulder, crimson eyes gleaming in the torchlight. “Not bad, but too quiet,” he informed her. “Commit, or don’t do it all.”

Jenna glared at his back before finally embracing the absurdity and giving full melody and words to the song. Some ballad her friend Tali was fond of, star-crossed lovers or something. Jenna wasn’t exactly a good singer, but she wasn’t terrible either. In her own opinion, anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time there’d been a reason to sing of anything that wasn’t heart breaking. She never enjoyed tragic songs; they only made the listeners feel worse. 

Jenna repeated the lyrics from the love ballad, consciousness fleeing before her footfalls and the harmony. She didn’t know how long she’d been singing until Wrex’s massive forearm thumped against the leathers covering her chest. 

“What?”

In the dim glow from their torches, Wrex’s sanguine eyes strained against the blackness. “We’re not alone,” he rumbled, hands moving to the colossal battle ax strapped to his back. 

Jenna turned to look behind her, finding only the same yawning emptiness as before. 

_ “I liked your song.”  _ The voice was whiskey smooth and lingered like smoke in the vacant wind. It was so sudden and _alive_ in the ebony void that Jenna jumped in spite of herself. 

“Show yourself!” Wrex snarled, ax brandished at their invisible company. 

Jenna gently put a hand on his arm, silently requesting he let her handle the situation. His eyes narrowed into splinters, but at last he nodded. 

“Hello?” Jenna called out, holding her torch aloft. “My name is Commander Jenna Shepard of the Human Alliance. With me is Urdnot Wrex of the Krogan Clans. We’re looking for the turians.”

Quiet answered her greeting. She almost wondered if she’d imagined a speaker; her mind finally polluted by the oppressive forest gloom. 

_ “Why are you seeking the turians?” _ The question whispered across the back of her neck like a phantom breeze, making goose flesh pimple her arms. 

“We need their help,” she managed, head craning in search of the speaker. “Please. Hear us out.”

For a moment there was no response. Then, the sound of talons scraping against bark - alarmingly close to her person - filled her ears. Shadow sucked up the firelight from her torch though no shape seemed to accompany it. 

_ “You’re so red,”  _ the voice murmured. 

Jenna felt her brows knit together. “What?”

_ “If I can help you, I will,” _ the speaker replied instead.  _ “You can call me Garrus.” _

**********

“I don’t trust him,” Wrex whispered loudly into her ear later that evening - or maybe it was the following morning, Jenna couldn’t be sure. The impenetrable blackness of the forest hardly changed after all the hours they’d spent wandering through it. “Never trust something that won’t show itself.” 

Jenna pulled her face away from where she was seated next to Wrex on a massive log wrapped thickly in cobwebs. In front of them, their campfire sparked valiantly though it cast little light. Wrex had decided that the best way to discuss Garrus - since they could never be sure if he was there or not if he didn’t talk - was to speak directly into Jenna’s ear. His breath was hot and somehow still managed to hold the acrid stench of ryncol. 

“We wanted to find the turians and we found them,” Jenna replied, chomping down harshly on a piece of jerky. “The Reapers are slaughtering us, Wrex,” she continued as she chewed. “If the turians can give us  _ any  _ information then this journey was worth it.”

A guttural growl rumbled from Wrex’s throat. “His words mean shit if you can’t look him in the eyes when he talks.” His massive shoulders slumped. “Any hope is better than none. For every Reaper we dig out and destroy ten more take its place. They’re like giant, magic ticks.”

Jenna washed the dried meat down with a swig of water from her canteen. “True enough,” she agreed, wiping her mouth with the back of a hand before belching loudly. 

“Heh. You’d fit right in at a krogan feast,” Wrex commented. “None of those dainty asari manners or over-complicated salarian cutlery. Just using your hands as forks like the Maker intended. Nice to meet a human not concerned with being lady-like.”

Somehow the insinuation that she wasn’t  _ ‘lady-like’ _ stung, though Jenna wasn’t sure why. Honestly, she couldn’t be certain if she’d ever been a lady - even before the Reapers. Still, she secretly enjoyed fancy dresses and poetry and love songs. It’d be nice to have someone to share that with, she thought fleetingly. Instead, she let out an unladylike snort. “No time for polite society in war.” She stretched her arms above her head. “How long do you think it’ll take Garrus to get an answer from his superior?”

“If he’s even coming back,” Wrex snorted, ripping a hunk of rancid looking meat off a pocked bone. “You should’a given him an incentive,” he accused Jenna, pointing the bone at her while he chewed. “You should’a promised to sing him more of those gooey love songs the quarians are so fond of.”

“Yeah, well, if this Gavorn person he mentioned can get us answers, I’ll serenade him ‘till the cows come home,” Jenna retorted. She tried and failed to stifle a yawn. 

Wrex eyed her as the orange glow of their fire began to dwindle away. The fact that anything in this forest was capable of producing light when burned had been a surprise. Jenna had halfway expected the flames to be black.

“I’ll take first watch,” Wrex announced, pulling his ax onto his lap. “Sleep up. With any luck, your friend will be back soon.”

“My friend, huh?” Jenna drawled, pulling her cloak securely around her like a blanket and moving to lie on the compacted ground. 

Wrex grunted in reply and Jenna closed her eyes. Garrus seemed sincere. He’d been sympathetic to their plight when she’d described the horrors consuming humans and anything else infected by the Reaper blight. They had to have faith that he’d return. After all, what was faith other than a blind hope for something you couldn’t physically perceive? Yeah, hope. If Garrus was hope, then she had faith he’d be back. 

Her dreams were bright and glowing, colors dancing behind closed lids. The world could be like that again. She had hope now. 


	2. The Watchers

The bland, grey trees fled before Garrus’ padded footfalls, a blur of spectral nothing as he raced back toward the others. A human and a krogan! He still struggled to wrap his mind around it. None of the sun worshipers entered the Abyssal Forest. Or at least, none had in living memory. 

The subvocal songs vaulted within the hollow trunks of trees, the memories of millennia accessible to the descendants of the First, sang of yellow krogan and their white-hot fury. The krogan -  _ Wrex  _ \- certainly matched that description. There was anger, luminous and pale burning in his soul, a voracious inferno. And  _ pain _ . Such quivering, citron hurt and regret. 

But the human lady...  _ Jenna Shepard _ . The ancient rhymes all differed when it came to humans. Some described them as over-ambitious and greedy. Other songs sang of humanities compassion with a spirit that couldn’t be broken. They were green, red, purple, magenta and color without name. They’d fascinated the First - turians born from pure magic and the cosmos itself. Following a human voice treated the careful watcher to rainbows in full shimmering glory; a garden of wonder. 

Jenna was a fierce and determined red. No, not just red, Garrus decided, pulling back his form to readjust to the thickly packed trees. He stretched and slithered, a serpentine shadow between the roots, feet no longer of any use. Jenna was a nova of everything  _ red  _ meant. Power and passion, desire and bravery, aggression and hope. He’d heard her beautiful voice before he’d seen her, but once he’d glimpsed the living vision... Well, it was a minor miracle he’d managed to articulate anything aside from awestruck vocals and dumbstruck  _ “errs”  _ and  _ “uhhs.”  _

The wood became heavy with subharmonics as he dropped down into the camp. Other Watchers coiled and looped around him as he assumed his given shape once more, taloned feet digging into dry soil. 

_ “Garrus.” _ Captain Gavorn greeted. The green, determined pulse of his aura grew in strength as he stepped closer.  _ “You were gone longer than expected.” _

Garrus rumbled in acknowledgment.  _ “Sorry, Captain, but- _

_ “We need to move out,”  _ Gavorn interrupted. _ “Other Watchers have reported a massive vorcha nest in the east.” _ He growled low in his throat.  _ “They’re a pestilence. No matter how many we kill they repopulate just as swiftly.”  _

Garrus subconsciously pulled his mandibles against his face. The vaulted songs said that other races described the vorcha as _ ‘spiders,’ _ due to their numerous, spindly legs. They were semi-sentient, murderous nuisances so far as the Hierarchy was concerned. Spirits forbid they ever obtain the numbers to spill beyond the forest. Turians might have left the sunlit fields and meadows, but they had a duty to protect those beyond their borders and a turian never abandoned his duty. Garrus had never been a good turian, though. 

_ “Sir, there are outsiders in the forest,” _ he announced just as Gavorn turned away. 

The other man froze in place, even as his back warped to form jagged wings.  _ “What do you mean outsiders?” _

_ “A human and a krogan,”  _ Garrus breathed. Around him the other Watchers huddled closer, vocals sounding out in shock and disbelief. 

_ “That’s impossible,”  _ Gavorn replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.  _ “The other races haven’t visited in… Well, I don’t know if they’ve ever come here.” _

_ “They’re here,” _ Garrus confirmed.  _ “They want our help. The Reapers have returned.” _

Sound died and the world dimly flickered with the internal lights of those gathered.  _ “We’ve known that the Reapers are back,”  _ Gavorn stated simply. _ “We’ve seen their corruption in the vorcha nests near the border. They’re mummified, shrieking husks who feast upon each other until none are left.” _

_ “And we don’t  _ do  _ anything about it,”  _ Garrus fumed.  _ “We make note of it and retreat back into the heart of our realm! How does that help anyone other than ourselves?”  _

_ “Not my call,”  _ Gavorn responded, aura flickering regretfully into shades of lemon and chartreuse.  _ “I know you think we ought to take a more active role in affairs beyond the forest - I’ve heard your entreaties to Chancellor Pallin - but that’s not my decision to make.” _ Gavorn spread midnight wings before leaping skyward.  _ “We’ll inform the Chancellor of the outsiders, but right now, there’s vorcha to deal with!” _ Wings sliced through the air as he motioned the others with a sharp nod.  _ “Watchers, move!” _

There was a flurry of shifting and subvocals as the others morphed wings and joined Gavorn, swirling into the highest reaches of the canopy before bolting off to obliterate the vorcha. Same as ever. Routine with no variation. 

Visions of red swam in his memories. Garrus bent and shifted, colossal wings of pitch erupting from his spine. He lept into the air before whirling back in the direction of Jenna and Wrex. Chancellor Pallin wouldn’t do anything to help, of that he was certain. But, maybe he could aid Jenna’s quest. At the minimum, he could deliver a message to the Primarch. If the Hierarchy wouldn’t  _ fight  _ the Reapers, maybe they could at least supply information to their victims? 

The Reapers were as old as the turians, befalling those beyond the forest in cycles. Never before had the turians done anything to end the death, the suffering. But he couldn’t just let Jenna fail in her mission. He didn’t want the red to fade to black. Damn the old fools and their rules and regulations! Garrus Vakarian was going to help. 

**********

Jenna stared transfixed at the smoldering embers of their fire. People often compared her hair to fire - red tresses that pooled over her shoulders in simpler times, now cut short, stopping at her chin. Wrex had a red crest and eyes. It was amusing to think how much color they possessed, even when engulfed by darkness.

Wrex snored loudly off to her right, occasionally grunting in his sleep. Suddenly, a new sound crept into her awareness. It reminded her of a cat’s purr, though louder and more resonant. Straightening her back she peered into the rumbling crypt of trees. 

“Garrus?” she whispered to avoid spooking Wrex. “Is that you?”

_ “I’m back,” _ he replied. The faint glow from the fire was sucked up next to her and Jenna instinctively moved away. 

_ “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.” _ Jenna wasn’t sure if she imagined the hurt tone, but felt guilty for recoiling either way. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized to the shadows. “It’s just hard. I can’t… Do you…?” She wasn’t sure how to phrase her question in a way that wasn’t offensive. Did Garrus actually have a body? “You surprised me,” she settled.

The blackness sighed.  _ “I forgot you can’t see me. Here.”  _ The dark slowly seeped along the ground, tributaries of inky water joining to form a shadow in the firelight. Jenna stared at it. There was some type of pointed headdress jutting off the shadow’s head, with maybe a helmet protruding down from the face? A hump or cowl rose over the back and broad shoulders tapered down into an exceedingly narrow waist. The arms were long and ended in three-fingered hands, all of which appeared armored. The legs remained beyond the burn of her fire and sight.

“So is that… you?” Jenna dared to move closer. 

_ “Yes,” _ Garrus replied in his smokey, honeyed voice.  _ “The light makes it difficult to hold shapes other than my own.”  _ The shadow’s maw opened as he spoke, the protrusions - which she decided were mandibles of some sort - twitched against his face. 

“You’re shape-shifters,” Jenna confirmed. “But light makes it hard to alter your form?”

_ “That’s a simplistic way to describe it, but yeah,” _ he answered, a more casual lilt to his voice. 

“What did your superior say about helping us?” Jenna inquired, moving to sit on her knees. 

Garrus shook his head.  _ “He’s letting  _ his  _ superior decide what to do. And Chancellor Pallin won’t do anything. The Reapers don’t bother us and we don’t interfere with them when they reappear.” _

“You’ve lived for all these eons just  _ watching  _ the Reapers destroy civilizations, turning people into mindless, soulless husks?” Disgust pulsed in Jenna’s voice as she tried to imagine just idling as a witness to the horrendous suffering of others.

_ “Some of us want to help,” _ Garrus responded. If a shadow could look ashamed, he was.  _ “I can tell you what I know, but if there’s a way to actually stop the Reaper blight, only our Primarch would have the answer. He’s the only one who’s heard the oldest of the subvocal stories.”  _

“Will your Primarch help?” Jenna all but demanded. From the corner of her eye, she saw Wrex roll over onto his side to glare at her and Garrus, clearly having heard the entire conversation. 

_ “I don’t know,” _ Garrus shrugged, just as Wrex stormed over. 

“You say you want to help, but what’s different about this time, huh?” He pointed an angry finger at the ground where Garrus was situated. “Were the races before us not worth the effort? If your leader has the solution to ending the Reapers, why didn’t you ever bother?” The image of a large, heavily armored krogan arguing with a shadow might have been comical in another setting, but Wrex raised a good point. 

_ “You seem to think I have an actual voice in the policies of my people,”  _ Garrus replied, an irritated buzzing sound underlying his words.  _ “Turians aren’t immortal - long lived, yes, but not without an end. I wasn’t even born the previous time the Reapers appeared.” _

Wrex narrowed his eyes into crimson slits. “So you’re the only good samaritan among your kind, is that it?”

_ “Others would help, if allowed.” _ Garrus let out a hissing sigh before his shadow rippled and receded back into the darkness beyond the fire’s reach.  _ “There’s stories locked in the vaults - old stories. About the Reaper’s weakness. If there’s a way to destroy them, Primarch Fedorian would know.” _

“They aren’t rendered weak by sunlight,” Jenna noted, as she rose to her feet to stand next to Wrex who still had his arms crossed and a scowl painted across his face. “But, Garrus, please. If you think you can convince your Primarch to share what information he has…” she hung her head under the oppressive feeling of hopelessness that had settled on her shoulders like a thick cloak. “You’re our last hope,” she confessed into the void. Next to her, Wrex’s arms dropped to his sides as his own eyes cast downward. 

The silence hung heavy in the air and Jenna wondered if Garrus had already left before she heard his voice, rich velvet near her ear.  _ “I’ll do everything I can, Jenna. I’ll talk to the Primarch and let you know his answer.”  _ There was a rustling of dry leaves before he called out from what sounded like farther off,  _ “stay away from the east! There’s an active vorcha nest!”  _

It wasn’t until what felt like an eternity later that Wrex turned to prod the dying fire. He tossed a few withered twigs into the coals, the sparks dancing in a miniature tornado before his face. “He likes you,” the old krogan said without looking at her. “With any luck, that’ll be enough to get us our answers.”

Jenna scoffed. It wasn’t so much an issue of like or dislike, but  _ unlike  _ Wrex, Jenna had a way with people. Her words were her most powerful weapon. Still though, she hoped Wrex was right. Garrus was their only prayer for survival. And  _ if  _ they survived, she wouldn’t mind learning more about her phantom friend. Then again, that was a major if. 

The fire grew in strength, beating back the forest shade and casting their silhouettes against a colossal tree trunk. There was so much to learn and ask, Jenna thought, staring at her shadow. She hoped she’d have the time to do so, before the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one week? Say what? This was due to the fact that 1) S0me_Writer is a baller beta and 2) it's Squiggly_Squid's birthday and I wanted to give her a bday update. Hopefully everyone enjoys. =)


	3. A Helping Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic descriptions of violence after the break

Garrus stretched and segmented, legs splintering from his ribs as he clambered over the tightly packed tree trucks that formed a natural wall around Cipritine. The staccato of his new, pointed feet biting into wood became static in his ears as he hurried past sentries and guards, their shapes like ravens, bats, and chimeras without name. For all its eons of isolation, there were always soldiers standing watch. 

Garrus broke free of the trees and descended into the vertical chasm that led to the shadowy city. A perfect, circular entrance swallowed him as he warped once more to shrink in size and sprout wings. Flying through the limestone throat of the earth, he was spit out into the colossal chamber that housed Cipritine. 

No structure made of pure darkness and magic was solid - the buildings swayed and rippled, as ephemeral as the beings that dwelt within them. The _dancing city,_ ancient outsiders had called it. An apt name, Garrus mused as he assumed his given form and followed the path of incandescent fairy lights to the steps of the Spire. 

Two guards, one with a scarlet aura and the other burgundy blocked his path. _“You need an appointment to speak with the Primarch,”_ the scarlet woman intoned, subvocals bored. 

_“I have one,”_ Garrus lied. 

_“What’s your name?”_ the male guard asked, aura turning orange and pinching tight in suspicion. 

Garrus bit back a frustrated growl. No one got to just waltz in and have a chat with the Primarch. This had been a rushed, stupid decision. The Primarch only met with citizens who were high ranking, who were good turians, who-

 _“Castis Vakarian,”_ Garrus replied, restraining his traitorous subvocals that were earnest to betray his lie. 

The female guard studied him. _“You’re not Castis,”_ she declared. _“You’re far too blue.”_

 _“Besides,”_ the male guard scowled, blazing indigo, _“Castis is already with the Primarch. Which begs the questions: who are you really, and why are you lying?”_

 _“Garrus!”_ His father’s voice had a way of slicing through all ambient conversation and Garrus internally cringed as the amber pulse of his father’s aura came into view, followed by the stern mandibles and aggrieved vocals Garrus was so familiar with. 

_“Garrus, huh?”_ the female guard drawled, a smirk in her tone. _“You know this person?”_ she asked his father. 

_“He’s my son,”_ Castis stated, brushing past her and coming to stand directly in front of Garrus, arms crossing over his keel. _“Why aren't you with the Watch?”_ he demanded. _“Captain Gavorn doesn’t have time to babysit you and if you lose your position because-”_

 _“There’s outsiders in the forest!”_ Garrus snapped. 

Castis vibrated in shock before grabbing Garrus by the elbow and pulling him away from the guards. _“What are you talking about?”_

 _“There’s a human and a krogan in the north-east.”_ Garrus pulled his elbow from his father’s grasp and thrummed his vocals impatiently. If he couldn’t personally see the Primarch, maybe he could convince his father to relay a message. Castis was strict and taciturn, but took his role as guardian seriously. Garrus wanted to believe he’d try to help those beyond the eternal veil of their forest. 

_“A human… and a krogan?”_ his father repeated. _“They entered the forest willingly?”_

 _“They’re seeking our aid,”_ Garrus implored. _“The Reapers have returned. They’re all but begging for our help - if not an army, then information which might help them turn the tide.”_

Castis looked at the blank ground for a moment before raising his head once more, aura shuddering in alabaster waves. _“The affairs of those beyond our borders aren’t our concern,”_ he recited. _“Unless the threat comes from our forest, we don’t interfere.”_

 _“But they’ll be destroyed!”_ Garrus felt the heaping weight of disappointment collapse onto him. _“You can’t even_ ask _Fedorian about the ancient songs on the Reapers? You’d really condemn them all to die when they’ve come for our help?”_

Castis was silent before a relenting subvocal rippled out of him. _“I… will ask Fedorian if there’s any information we can pass along,”_ he assented. _“But,”_ he held up a finger to accentuate his point, _“if the Primarch agrees to supply what we know, in part or whole,_ you _will not be the one delivering this news. It will come from an official Spire messenger.”_ Castis took a step backward toward the Spire entrance. _“Return to the Watch. I’ll advise Fedorian to send a scout to watch these outsiders.”_

 _“I can watch them,”_ Garrus countered. _“I already have a rapport with them.”_ Well, he felt he did with Jenna, anyway. _“Isn’t that the Watcher's role? To observe and protect?”_ he questioned, knowing his father was trapped in the truth of that assertion. 

Castis glared at his son before turning away. _“You will do as Captain Gavorn commands,”_ he called back. _“If that means staying with the outsiders, then so be it.”_

Garrus took a full moment to relish in his triumph before shooting skyward once more on wings of ether. He spun and flapped back toward the surface, rocketing toward the canopy and twirling into an amorphous, funnel-like shape that sped back to the Watcher’s camp. His father didn’t say he had to tell Gavorn in person that he would be keeping an eye on Jenna and Wrex. Really, Garrus only needed to tell another Watcher who could pass the news along. After all, Gavorn was probably still busy dealing with vorcha.

Garrus thrummed in anticipation. Jenna would be relieved to know the Primarch was aware of her plight. Hopefully, Fedorian was at least willing to share the old songs. And if there were any mercy in this world, the secret to defeating the Reapers was trapped within an ancient tale. Then, just maybe, Garrus could spend more time with the fascinating human. Yeah, definitely. He liked that idea.

**********

It had been too long since Garrus had left. Wrex was practically climbing the trees and had started declaring their venture a waste of time. In an effort to shut the old krogan up, they had pressed deeper into the gloom in search of something… well maybe not _fresh_ , but meat that wasn’t dried or rancid. 

“Everything is too small here,” Wrex groused as he held up the limp, translucent body of what looked like a cross between an axolotl and a chipmunk. “Wonder what those shape-shifters eat.”

“Shadows, probably,” Jenna opined, lips curled in disgust at Wrex’s catch. “Are you seriously going to eat that?”

Wrex sniffed at the thing in his hand before his face warped into an expression of pure disgust. “Smells like shit!” he swore, flinging the carcass off into the trees. He swung around and punched a tree trunk in frustration. A respectable dent was left pressed in the thick bark, though no leaves fell. 

“I doubt we’re going to find anything that doesn’t smell like it’s already dead,” Jenna sighed, head tilting back to gaze skyward at the cathedral of trunks. The trees must be miles tall, she noted. She and Wrex were nothing more than ants down here. 

“Maybe that wispy boyfriend of yours can bring some fresh food,” Wrex glowered. 

“He’s gone from being my _'friend’_ to being my _‘boyfriend’_ pretty fast,” Jenna snorted. “Usually a guy has to at least bring me flowers before we get into those kinds of labels.”

“Flowers?” Wrex cast her a dubious look. “You don’t seem the type to like dead weeds.”

Jenna scowled. “I don’t mind a chivalrous gesture here and there,” she informed him. Before she could go into more details, a sharp _snap_ drew both her and Wrex’s attention. “What was that?” she asked, lifting her torch above her head to create a wider circle of light. 

Wrex pulled out his axe. “It ain’t your lover, whatever it is,” he growled. “This thing stinks like-”

There was a horrible, ear-splitting shriek as a beast from nightmares fell from trees and landed heavily on top of Wrex. It had a large, hairy body and eight spider-like legs while it’s upper torso and head were humanoid in shape. It’s eyes were bulbous, opalescent globs with thin crescent moons for pupils. Elongated arms and wiry hands tore at Wrex’s pauldrons as it continued its horrible battle cry.

Wrex roared as he struggled to pull the thing off. Jenna unsheathed her sword and swung at the monster, struggling with the weight of it as one hand still held her torch. The weapon sank into thick flesh above a leg joint. The beast screamed again before lunging for Jenna. Shifting, she brandished her torch at the thing’s face, attempting to keep it at bay with the flames. 

“Vorcha!” Wrex bellowed as another creature came tearing out of the abyss and straight for her. Wrex charged, thick arms wrapping around the vorcha’s throat before there was a sickening _pop_ and something round rolled past her feet. 

The forest was suddenly alive with hissing and the drumming of heavy footfalls. Jenna lunged at the vorcha in front of her, driving her blade deep into its abdomen. It let out a squealing, squelching noise before falling onto its back, legs going limp. 

“Come on!” Wrex roared, swinging his axe in an arc as the vorcha pressed closer. 

_“Meat!”_

_“So fresh!”_

_“So hungry!”_

Jenna barred her teeth. If she died here she was taking as many of these bastards with her as she could! 

A large vorcha, mouth split in a permanent, fanged smile leaped at her. Before she could react, roll to safety and reach for her dagger, an obsidian spear lanced past her head and pierced through the vorcha’s skull. 

A sound like a cracking whip filled the air and another vorcha fell to the ground, cleaved in half by an enormous, invisible blade. Onyx pikes erupted from the shadows, ripping through another’s torso and still another’s head was chopped from its shoulders. Beyond her torchlight, the sounds of cracking bone, shredded sinew, and hewed flesh filled her ears, the metallic stench of blood permeating the air. 

_“Watcher!”_

_“We will leave!”_

The forest echoed with the vorcha’s hasty retreat as their dead lay where they fell, putrid, black blood seeping from their lethal wounds like hot tar. Jenna turned in a full circle, her torchlight falling on a scene of carnage. Wrex mirrored her actions from off to the left. 

_“Are you hurt?”_ came Garrus’s cool smoke voice from close by, sounding slightly out of breath. 

“Garrus!” Jenna cried, lowering her torch and trotting toward where she thought he was before halting. It wasn’t like she could run up and hug him. He was a wraith - she doubted he had a solid form. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. She held her torch up to look at Wrex. “Wrex, are you-?”

“I’m fine,” the old krogan huffed. “It’ll take more than a few vorcha to kill me.”

 _“I told you to avoid the east,”_ Garrus admonished. _“We weren’t able to destroy all the vorcha there.”_

“You think we can tell east from west in this pit?” Wrex growled. Before Garrus could answer Wrex was pointing an accusatory finger into the twilight beyond his torch. “What did your leader say? He going to help us or not?”

 _“My father is delivering the message. The Primarch will send a response,”_ Garrus answered, though Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another sound underlying his spoken words - like someone had kicked a wasp’s nest. 

_“Response?_ What-”

“Wrex,” Jenna gave him a pointed, _‘shut-up’_ look. Turning back to the darkness, she scanned the void aimlessly. “Thank you, Garrus,” she said softly. “I- thanks for having my back.”

Directly in front of her something wavered in the pitch, but she might have been imagining things. _“I’ll look out for you until the Primarch's messenger arrives,”_ Garrus breathed as the darkness shifted. _“Regardless of response, I’ve been ordered to keep watch and then lead you out of the trees once more.”_

Jenna released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “That’s great news,” she told him, glancing over to Wrex who was scrutinizing the shadows. 

“Not flowers, but I guess a few dead vorcha is better than nothing,” he muttered to Jenna. Then his crimson eyes flickered toward Garrus. “Your messenger better not take all day. I’m starving.”

 _“There’s elk not far from here,”_ Garrus suggested. _“They’re not our typical prey so you’d probably be able to catch one.”_

Wrex hesitated, glancing at Jenna. “Go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll start a fire. Somewhere not here,” she added, light falling on an eviscerated vorcha. 

Wrex nodded and together, with Garrus padding along in the darkness beyond her torch, the trio set out deeper into the woods.


	4. Ancient Riddles

The eternal midnight held Jenna firmly in a fist; she couldn’t pry back the iron fingers of ether, try as she might with flint and tinder. She held her palms up to the fire, eyes focused on the wavering, orange glow of the flames. The forest seemed repulsed by light of any kind - everything the firelight touched shied from it in silhouettes of sable and pitch. 

It was odd to not have Wrex’s familiar shape nearby; bitching about the darkness and lack of fresh food, or else life in general. At least she wasn’t alone. She and Garrus had fallen into easy conversation; their positions in society, culture, interests.

“Do you have any other family besides your father?” Jenna asked the ebony shadows. 

_ “I have a younger sister,” _ Garrus replied. He was allegedly sitting in front of her, just beyond the firelight. It was hard to be certain though. Creatures bred from old magic and shade like turians could be anywhere in this mausoleum of trees - or anything, she thought, reflecting on how he’d killed the vorcha. 

“It’s odd to think that turians have families similar to ours,” Jenna mused.

_ “Why shouldn’t we have families and loving relationships?” _ came the defensive reply.

“Oh! No, I didn’t mean it offensively,” Jenna hurried to clarify. “It’s just, all the stories say turians are beings of pure magic - beyond the human ability to comprehend. Having a father and sister just seems so… normal.”

Garrus chuckled from somewhere in the opaque void. _ “Sorry to be so boring. Though, I have to say, the old songs about humans seem true. You’re so beautifully colored.” _

“You’ve said that before.” Jenna shook her head. “Can you actually see me - my shape, hair, eye color, build - or do you just see a blob of color?”

Garrus hummed and Jenna swore she saw the shadows move. _ “I see both the given form and what lies inside,” _ he told her.  _ “I see you how other outsiders probably do, but I can also see your inner aura. That’s usually what turians focus on when describing someone.”  _

“You perceive the world so differently from me.” She sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “Have you ever seen other people from outside the forest?” she inquired, wondering if some wayward traveler had ever gotten lost in the abyss. 

_ “I’ve never seen someone like  _ you _ before.”  _ The reverence in Garrus’ tone took her off guard.

“What do I look like to you?” she asked on impulse, lifting her head. 

_ “You’re… red,”  _ Garrus replied, voice coming from off to her right side. 

"Red?" Jenna repeated with a quirk of her brow, glancing toward the voice. Her hair was red, she supposed maybe her inner aura matched?

_ "Mm-hm," _ she heard to her left now.  _ "Like fire." _

"Is fire really red though?" Jenna looked to the orange and yellow flames sparking at her feet, trying to compare them to an invisible force that only Garrus could see. A draw that seemed to compel him to circle like a shark, though she was unafraid.

She heard a chuckle, this time from above her head. _“It is to me. And warm. You're warm and…_ _I’ve never seen anyone - anything - as bright and all consuming as you. You’re… beautiful.”_

In the deep of the pressing blackness and the cold of monolithic tree trunks, Jenna felt her cheeks and ears erupt into a blush. She cleared her throat, hoping Garrus couldn’t perceive her embarrassment at possibly the oddest, yet most genuine compliment she’d ever received. 

“Thanks,” she said lamely. “I wish I could see you, too. As more than a shadow, I mean.”

There wasn’t an answer and Jenna wondered if Garrus had left before his smokey, deep voice sounded from in front of her again. _ “Jenna… do you trust me?” _

It was a loaded question. How did you truly trust what you couldn’t see, couldn’t touch? Garrus had always kept his word, though. Returned when he said he would and defended her and Wrex from the vorcha. If it hadn’t been for Garrus…

“I trust you,” she answered after only the briefest pause. 

_ “I don’t know how humans see us. But, if you wanted to… hold my hand?” _ The sheer awkwardness in the invitation was endearing and Jenna bit back a chuckle. 

“How can we do that?” 

_ “Umm. Well. Reach out past the fire, into the shadows,” _ Garrus instructed. 

Curiosity overpowering any sense of foreboding, Jenna shuffled toward the edge of the firelight on her knees before stretching her hand out into the vacant, surrounding gloom. 

Something reached out and carefully, gently, took her hand. It was a mix of rough and suede, a hand much larger than her own. And  _ warm _ . She’d assumed Garrus would feel cold, like frozen stone. This was a pleasant surprise.

She moved her fingers, exploring through touch. There were three fingers on his hand, configured similarly to a krogan’s. The tips of the fingers ended in long, scythe-like claws, sharp to the touch. 

“I thought turians didn’t have a solid form?” she questioned. “You’re beings of pure magic and shadow?”

_ “Yes… and no.”  _ Garrus arranged his fingers so her own five were slotted between them. A unique fit to be sure, but it somehow felt safe. Like coming home.  _ “We can feel solid if we… if we um, want to be touched. Held.” _

Jenna reached her other hand out in silent offering. After a moment, Garrus grasped it, entwining their fingers. A soft breath puffed against her brow and Jenna raised her face. In the deep onyx abyss, two lights burst into view; St. Elmo’s fire trapped in twin spheres that pinned her down with an otherworldly gaze.

“I can see you,” she whispered on shared breath, awe infused in every word. “You’re blue, Garrus. So, so blue.”

The eyes blinked, pupils coming into view. Something about Garrus’ gaze seemed almost avian in character.  _ “I uh, yeah. I’m blue,” _ he replied softly.  _ “You can see me?” _ Disbelief rang in his voice

“Your eyes,” Jenna clarified. Hesitantly, she reached a hand up and stroked along the side of his face. The shapes and contours felt like smooth, hard plates. As she ran her hand down what she assumed was his jaw, she felt a mandible. Garrus flicked it out in response to her touch. Jenna grinned at the thrill of discovery, moving her other hand to sweep along the back of his head, fingers tracing the three long horns that jutted out in a natural crown. 

A phantom wind tickled her chin as Garrus carefully caressed a finger along her cheek. _ “You’re soft,” _ he noted, eyes moving to focus on her own.  _ “You’re red and soft and… incredible. Wow.” _

Jenna wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she’d leaned her face closer - so close she saw the outline of Garrus’ face and his slightly parted mouth. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? Her eyes fluttered shut as she pressed her lips to Garrus’ plated mouth. 

Garrus let out a soft gasp as Jenna pulled back.  _ “What um, what was that?” _ he questioned and Jenna swore she saw a hand come up to gently touch where her mouth had been. 

“A kiss.” Shame suddenly crept over her with cold, pitiless fingers. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she mumbled, taking a step back toward the firelight. “It’s a romantic expression and I shouldn’t have assumed-”

_ “I liked it,” _ Garrus quickly interrupted, an ebony hand reaching from the shadows to hold hers.  _ “Can we… do it again?” _

Jenna stared at him - or where she could see a vague outline of him - before slowly nodding and returning to the darkness’ sweet embrace. Her hands cupped his face and the cerulean blue of his eyes faded as her lips met his once more. Experimentally, she licked at his mouth. Garrus obliged her as what felt like a long, thin tongue swept out to tangle with her own. He tasted like black licorice and sun-ripened blackberries; sweet and dark and addicting. 

Garrus moaned softly, arms wrapping around Jenna’s back and lifting her higher. Jenna wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, thighs resting on some type of spurs at his hips.  _ “Jenna,” _ Garrus breathed, forehead coming to press against her brow.  _ “You feel so… right.”  _ He gently nipped at her lips in silent request. Their kiss was more passionate this time as hands moved and explored the new and exhilarating topography of each other's bodies. 

“Shepard!” A booming voice bellowed, stomping through the heated, dark air. “This thing smells like pig guts and don’t look like an elk, but there’s meat!” Wrex’s hulking form was suddenly right next to them, some type of weird, white, deer-like animal slung over his shoulder. 

Jenna swiftly disentangled herself from Garrus but not fast enough. Stepping back into the light she was met with a judgmental stare. Wrex made a show of sniffing the air before glaring over her head and into the blackened forest. “Watch yourself, boy,” he warned Garrus. 

_ “I’m 500 years old,” _ came the slightly winded retort.  _ “Last I heard, that was old for the other races.” _

Wrex grunted before turning toward the elk carcass. “Still a whelp,” he informed Garrus. “The fact you were so ready with a number just shows you’re young for your species.”

_ “No younger than Jenna,” _ Garrus muttered. 

Wrex glanced over his shoulder at Jenna who was rubbing her arm like a teenager who’d been caught necking by a parent. “At least make him _ try,” _ the old krogan admonished. “I thought you needed flowers before-”

_ “Anyway,” _ Jenna announced, reclaiming her dignity and striding back over to Wrex. “I can help you skin this thing, though I’m not entirely sure I want to eat it.”

“Suit yourself,” Wrex shrugged before muttering “horney whelps,” under his breath.

Jenna glanced behind her, out into the velvet pitch beyond. She swore she saw an azure eye wink before fading away into the shadows. 

**********

Garrus sprang from tree to tree, pressing into the heart of the forest before vaulting skyward and shifting. A delicate bell, reminiscent of a jellyfish, he floated above the ground, alert for any sign of fish that swam in the charcoal-colored stream below. If Jenna found the terrestrial prey here distasteful, perhaps she’d enjoy something aquatic? Garrus wasn’t much of an angler, but he’d be damned if he returned empty handed. Especially after he’d promised Jenna  _ ‘a delicacy.’ _

As he hovered above the waters, he considered if he should bring her flowers, too. Wrex had made a comment about it as something she would enjoy. There weren’t many blooming plants in the Abyssal Forest; those that did grow here were faded and cold as stone. However, the fairy lights that sparkled around Cipritine on glittering indigo stalks were gorgeous. He wondered if Jenna might like a bouquet of some?

Burnt orange rippled through the trees, expanding outward into shades of copper and steel. Garrus dropped down to the ground, resuming his true form as the messenger undulated and warped into a turian. 

_ “Watcher Vakarian? Liliherax. Messenger for Primarch Fedorian,” _ the other man announced with a polite bow. He was older and a bit shorter than Garrus, but pride radiated in his voice when he announced his title. 

_ “Has the Primarch made a decision on whether or not to aid in the Reaper blight?” _ Garrus inquired. No time for niceties when this information could well save Jenna’s people - and Wrex’s. 

Liliherax hummed. _ “The Primarch isn’t presently willing to get the Hierarchy entangled in the affairs of those outside our borders. But,” _ he quickly added before Garrus could launch into an irate tirade on isolationism.  _ “He did instruct me to pass along the ancient subvocal songs about the Reapers. There is no direct answer contained in them, though,” _ Liliherax cautioned.

_ “What do they say about the Reapers’ weakness?” _ Garrus demanded, hand curling into a fist at his side.

_ “The songs sing of the being called Catalyst,” _ the other man relayed.  _ “It's an entity even more ancient than the turians or the Reapers - perhaps it's our creator.” _

_ “Is that why the Reapers have never attacked the Hierarchy?” _ Garrus wondered aloud.  _ “Does this Catalyst control them?” _

_ “Not sure,” _ Liliherax hummed.  _ “You know how the First loved their riddles. There’s something about the outsiders ravaging the earth, but turians living in the realm of dream and shadow, doing the seas and soil no harm.” _

Garrus sighed. Of course there was no direct answer. But this was  _ something _ , at least.  _ “And this Catalyst,” _ Garrus hedged. _ “It can stop the Reapers?” _

_ “I don’t know that either.”  _ Liliherax shook his head, mandibles pinched tightly against his face in mirrored frustration.  _ “You’d have to actually  _ find  _ Catalyst first. Apparently, that’s only possible when the moon and sun embrace.” _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean?”  _ Garrus exploded. This  _ ‘something’  _ had quickly evaporated into nothing.  _ “This information leaves the outsiders no more informed than before they came here seeking answers!” _

_ “I wish the songs were more clear,”  _ Liliherax spread his arms wide in defeat. _ “The last lyric of use speaks of Catalyst dwelling within the silver-hewn city. That’s all I have to convey. Believe me, I wish there was more to go on - more we could do to help.” _

Garrus sighed, giving the messenger an apologetic rumble.  _ “The sun impedes our ability to fight in force,” _ he acknowledged. _ “We’d only be of any real use at night. I’m going with them, though,”  _ he advised the other man.  _ “I’ll do whatever I can to help them find this Catalyst. The end of the Reapers could bring about a new era - one where turians involved themselves with those beyond the forest. There’s so much we could learn.” _

_ “I agree,” _ Liliherax nodded. _ “I wish you luck in your quest. It’d be nice to see the cycles end. To develop relationships with those who live beyond our borders.” _ With an exaggerated bow, the other man twisted and spiraled up toward the canopy, whirling back toward Cipritine. 

You can find Catalyst when the moon and sun embrace, Garrus mused to himself, form twisting into a spring. He bounded from tree trunk to tree trunk, back toward his companions. Perhaps they’d be able to unwind this riddle. Maybe there was still hope. Anything was worth a try - if it’d help Jenna, he’d do anything. 


	5. A Shadow's Journey

Their pace felt faster, somehow. Maybe because they were headed back into the world of sun and wind and away from the sepia specters that haunted their steps. Well, maybe not _all_ the specters. Ahead of them, Garrus flitted through the trees. He’d morphed into the shape of some weird bird - or at least that’s what it looked like to Jenna. 

Wrex still couldn’t see Garrus beyond the firelight when the turian revealed himself. The old krogan initially disregarded Jenna’s claim that she could see his eyes and outline before deciding Garrus was intentionally concealing himself to all but his _‘human lover.’_ Far from being disturbed, Wrex had suggested that Jenna use Garrus’ infatuation to their advantage. 

“If he’s got a stake in something beyond his people then he’ll try to convince others to help,” Wrex had defended when Jenna called him cruel. 

What did it say that there was something tethering her to the Abyssal Forest? Jenna wasn’t always the best at talking about her feelings, but she wasn’t blind to them. She cared for Garrus. She trusted him, knew she could rely on him without question - much to Wrex’s dismay. 

"Easy for you to have that view from the vantage point of his lap," the krogan had grumbled. “I suppose the turian _has_ been helpful,” he’d eventually acquiesced, though he’d cautioned Jenna on trusting Garrus farther than she could throw.

Despite having only known Garrus for a few weeks at most, there was an undeniable attraction. Perhaps it was his eagerness to help, to follow her into the unknown in search of answers. He’d proven himself to be a loyal, trustworthy companion and adept fighter. Though kismet was a simpler answer for her draw to him.

As the trees shrunk in size to more normal proportions, light filtered through the canopy in ribbons choked with dust motes. Garrus avoided these, almost as though it were a game as he dodged and swerved. 

“How can you survive outside the forest?” Jenna called up to him as they walked. “I thought sunlight impeded your ability to shape-shift and move.”

 _“It does,”_ Garrus replied, moving to walk along next to her in his given form, sticking to the shade. “ _It doesn’t hurt me, per se, but, uh…”_ he trailed off and Jenna was sure he was rubbing the back of his neck. It was odd that she could perceive him even when she couldn’t see him. Maybe Garrus _was_ subconsciously letting down his guard for her. _“I can, uh... ride in your shadow?”_

“What?” Jenna stopped short and Wrex glanced over his shoulder. 

Garrus' subvocals warbled a strange, strangled sound before he cleared his throat. _“Erm. Your shadow. I can, um, travel in it? Crap, I’m explaining this terribly,”_ he muttered. 

“Keep trying,” Wrex advised, crossing his arms to stare into the murky woods. “It sounds like you wanna use black magic on my friend.” He nodded in Jenna’s direction. 

_“What? No!”_ Garrus growled in frustration. _“There’s no magic involved! I’m born from old magic, but don’t employ it. Not consciously, anyway._ ” He let out an exasperated sigh. _“The things I can do - shape-shift or bond with Jenna’s shadow - they’re inherently magic because that’s a part of what,_ who _, I am. I’m not using spells.”_

“So, you’d be fused with my shadow?” Jenna questioned, taking a step toward him. “Like, you’d become _‘one’_ with it?” Eyes like azure lightning blinked back at her as a soft purr emanated from the gloom. 

_“Yeah. Not permanently - just when we’re under direct sunlight. At night I can move normally on my own.”_ Garrus moved so he was standing in front of her, the light from her torch making his form appear to wobble. Carefully, he reached out to take her hand. _"_ _If you’re not comfortable with it, I can try to think of something else,”_ he assured. _"_ _This just seemed like the easiest way.”_

“I trust you, Garrus,” Jenna smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’ll be kinda fun to have you with me. Like a guardian angel.”

“Sounds like you have a plan,” Wrex rolled his ruby eyes. “And whatever sexual gratification you two get from _‘fusing’_ or whatever young people are calling it, keep it to yourselves.”

“Wrex!”

_“It’s not-”_

“Sure it’s not,” Wrex waved them off as he started to walk once more. “While you’re at it, maybe try to figure out that stupid rhyme your Primarch gave us,” he tossed over his shoulder. _“When the moon and sun embrace._ Sounds like a dumb asari love poem.”

Jenna sighed before following Wrex’s retreating form. “What would happen if the sun and moon embraced?” she wondered aloud. 

She heard Garrus hum overhead. _“Both can’t exist together,”_ he noted. _“One would take precedence; you can’t have dark and light simultaneously. Just like the moon and sun can’t be in the sky together at the same time.”_

“That’s it!” Jenna narrowly avoided running into a massive spiderweb hung heavily with silver dew as she charged up to Wrex. “An eclipse!” she shouted at him. “The turian song is talking about an eclipse! _When the sun and moon embrace._ Think about it!”

“An eclipse, huh?” Wrex’s eyes became distant with fleeing thoughts. “I’ve seen one of them before - 400 years ago. The moon blotted out the sun.” He shook his head as he turned his focus back on Jenna. “An eclipse feeds magic. If this Catalyst person is a mage or something, it’d make sense you could only find 'em during an eclipse.”

 _“The moon blots out the sun?”_ Garrus parroted from nearby. _“What do you mean?”_

“I mean it gets real dark in the middle of the day,” Wrex elaborated. “Instead of a yellow circle in the sky, there’s a black one.”

_“A shadow realm outside the forest?”_

“Don’t go getting ideas,” Wrex huffed. “It doesn’t last long. Only a few minutes.”

“That doesn’t give us much time,” Jenna muttered, hands moving to tuck errant strands of hair behind her ears. “Do we know when the next eclipse is supposed to happen?”

“Liara would know,” Wrex hummed, a hand coming to stroke his chin in thought. “The asari worship the moon goddess, they track the eclipses since it heightens their own abilities.”

Jenna stared at him. “Why do you know that?”

“I’ve been with asari. Last one I dated was a huntress for the order of Athame,” Wrex informed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “I know more about their religion than I ever needed to.”

“Huh. Well, if we can determine when the next eclipse is due - and hopefully that’s soon - do we even know where Catalyst… lives?” Jenna asked, starting to pace as her mind grappled with formulating a plan. 

_“Catalyst dwells in the silver hewn city.”_ Garrus' voice changed in pitch as though he were quoting someone else. _“There is no such thing in the Abyssal Forest. I had hoped you would catch the reference.”_

“Afraid I don’t know that one,” Jenna replied, hands resting akimbo on her hips as she continued to pace. “We need to discuss this with the others. Maybe the asari or salarian scholars have an answer.”

“Then keep walking forward,” Wrex advised. “Wearing a trench in the ground won’t do any good.”

Jenna lifted her head and wordlessly quickened her pace. Time fled and thought faded as her sole focus became escaping the forest. She had half the answers to the riddle of stopping the Reapers, but ironically the other half now lay back among her own kin. 

Wrex was likewise consumed with internal musings, because neither was prepared for when they were abruptly spit out of the trees into a nebulous, star freckled sky. Jenna gasped, eyes adjusting to the ephemeral glow of the heavens and lungs drinking in clear, summer air. 

_“Wow.”_ Garrus stood next to Jenna, an inky apparition made more solid by the glittering stars that rushed to embrace them. _“They sing,”_ he chuckled in disbelief, head craned skyward. _“The stars,”_ he murmured to himself. _“There’s so many of them.”_ His voice cracked and Jenna wondered if he were crying. 

Gently, she reached out and took his hand, fingers intertwining with his own larger ones. He squeezed it, finally dropping his gaze down to her, blue eyes swirling in their own cosmos of navy and pitch. _“And you,”_ he breathed, stepping back to fully admire her. _“You’re even more beautiful out here. You... glow.”_

Jenna felt herself pulled closer to Garrus’ tall, decidedly spiky looking form. The world fell away, her focus narrowing to his eyes and face, the contours and shape of which she could clearly see. “I wish I saw things like you do,” she whispered.

The air became heated as they stared at each other, silent longing in heavy gazes and clasped hands. 

“I think I’m gonna barf,” Wrex cut in, shattering the mood. “At least wait till there’s a room. Not everyone wants to watch you two suck face.”

_“Suck face?”_

“Duly noted,” Jenna replied dryly. She stepped away from Garrus but they continued to hold hands as they walked. They’d find the rest of the Normandy company. Make sense of where this silver city was and when the next eclipse was due. Overhead, a waxing moon glowed and hope took flight.

**********

The sun was as intense as all the old songs described. Burning, gold, white, pale green. Jenna’s shadow was far cooler, though still warmer than what was comfortable for him. She’d taken off the leather armor around her chest, torso and arms, clearly enjoying the feeling of sun on her skin. 

Garrus familiarized himself with her shadow. Its shape and limits, its soft, lilac texture and the welcoming crimson aura it exuded. Everything outside the forest was new and mesmerizing, but it also served to confirm what Garrus already knew: Jenna was unique among all the opulent, rioting color and song. His lady was singular and strong. At least, he _hoped_ she was his lady. He hadn’t actually asked what they were - if anything. Wrex seemed to believe they were a couple.

Garrus sighed as the afternoon shadows lengthened. Jenna had commented that it felt warmer when he was with her, but otherwise was unperturbed by his presence. Still, he itched to explore, find answers to less pressing questions. Though the whereabouts of the silver city weighed heavily on his mind. Hopefully Jenna’s asari friend had the answers they sought. 

Just as dusk began to sink silken fingers into the sky, the trio arrived at a large encampment alongside a river. Forte Normandy, Jenna called it. There were representatives of nearly all the races: human, asari, salarian, quarian, batarian, krogan, drell. Their colors were at once beautiful and overwhelming; a living kaleidoscope.

“About fucking time!” a small, human woman greeted. Her hair was styled much differently then Jenna’s and she wore far less armor. Her aura burned a furious indigo that gradually bled into a loyal purple. “I’ve been bored as shit,” the woman informed Jenna. “Did you get any information?”

“Good to see you too, Jack,” Jenna answered with a tired sigh. 

“Where’s Liara?” Wrex demanded, coming to stand next to Jack and making a show of looking down at her. “She’s the one with answers.”

“Fuck off, grandpa!” Jack responded, pushing against Wrex’s armored stomach. Blue flame lapped up her arms and Wrex immediately stepped backwards. 

“We found the turians,” Jenna cut in. “They aren’t willing to fight, but they did give us some useful information - maybe.”

Jack made a wet sounding snort before spitting onto the ground. “Of course the shadowy bastards won’t fight. It was dumb to think they would,” she informed Jenna, a frown cutting deep tracks into her brow. “Liara’s over there,” she nodded down a path flanked with tents. “She’s balls deep in talks with that drell and Tali.”

Jenna thanked her and Wrex grunted as they headed down the worn dirt trail. This forte, as it turned out, had been here a while. 

_“Why didn’t you say anything about me?”_ Garrus asked, still not confident enough to leave the relative safety of Jenna’s shadow. 

“You wanted to say hello to _her?”_ Wrex scoffed. “Shepard is about the only person she likes.”

“I think Liara, Feron, and Tali might be better for an initial introduction,” Jenna advised. “Though, prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

Garrus mulled this over as they approached a large tent, flap open. Inside, an asari in flowing white robes was huddled over in apparent deep conversation with an orange and yellow drell and a quarian clad in a royal purple veil. 

Garrus patiently waited as greetings were exchanged and Jenna recounted her and Wrex’s journey into the Abyssal Forest, meeting him and the cryptic message contained within the vaulted songs. 

“A silver hewn city,” Liara mused in a soothing, if not mildly erudite voice. “I’ll have to consult the scrolls. Tali and I were able to get the more important ones out before…” she trailed off. 

“Before Thessia fell,” Jenna finished for her. Liara nodded and Tali placed a comforting hand on her arm.

“Is this all we have to go on?” Liara asked, lifting her head.

“Yeah. We need to figure out where this city is and when the next eclipse is due.” Jenna hummed. “Though, we _do_ have some outside help.”

“What do you mean?” Liara tilted her head in confusion.

“The turians won’t supply an army, but our guide, Garrus Vakarian, came with us. He wants to help.” Jenna glanced behind her, offering him an encouraging smile. 

“Come on out, boy,” Wrex cajoled. 

Garrus ignored the jab, stepping from Jenna’s shadow to stand outside the tent and glow of torches. He allowed his form to spill inside just enough to reveal himself. Liara and Tali gasped in unison and Feron moved into a defensive posture. 

“He’s a friend,” Jenna assured the drell before turning her focus back on Garrus. “If it weren’t for Garrus, Wrex and I would have died in that forest. I trust him with my life and know he’ll be an asset to our cause.” 

Liara was the first to break from her shocked silence. “A real turian,” she breathed, taking a step closer. “I apologize. I’ve studied all the ancient texts about your people- I’ve even written a few myself. Goddess, I can’t believe you’re really here.”

 _“I’m real,”_ Garrus assured her, pulling back on amused subvocals. 

“Easy, Liara,” Jenna grinned, coming to stand next to her. “I’m sure Garrus would be happy to answer your questions, but right now, we need to focus.”

“Yes, of course,” Liara assured. “Tali, Feron, can you help me with the Thessian scrolls? Between the three of us we should be able to get an answer to the next eclipse and possibly the location of this silver city.” The asari paused, aura flashing an excited ice-blue before she curtsied to Garrus. Tali awkwardly followed suit and Feron gave him an unsure nod as they excited the tent. 

“I’m leaving too,” Wrex announced. “Need to talk to Bakara. Maybe eat some real food.” He lumbered away without further ado. 

“So,” Jenna rubbed her arm. “I have a tent assigned to me. We can share. There’s plenty of shadows in there I’m sure.”

Garrus hadn’t seen Jenna flustered before. It made her seem younger, somehow. _Unburdened_ was a better term. Her aura flashed into a watermelon pink and Garrus chuckled, steadying his form and stepping over the tent threshold to take her hand. _“We’ll work something out,”_ he assured her. _“I want to explore a bit while it’s still dark. Learn my way around. But uh. I’ll come back to sleep with you. Near you! Next to you!”_ He wasn’t sure how much of his expression Jenna could discern, but his aura burned a deep royal blue pitching into mauve and he wished he could melt back into the blackness without it looking like a full blown retreat. 

Jenna smirked before lifting onto her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his chin. “Don’t worry, Garrus,” she replied, sounding infinitely more confident. “We’ll make it work. Maybe keep a low profile until the rest of the forte knows about you?”

He nodded before bending down to press his brow against hers. Whatever this was between them, he didn’t want it to end. They’d definitely find a way to make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this work. 
> 
> Come say hello to me on Tumblr and Twitter: @Wafflesrock16


	6. The Plan

Jenna burrowed deeper under her blankets even as dawn, brilliant and bright, poked at the canvass of her tent, running warm, beckoning fingers along her arms and head. This was the first time she’d had something resembling a real bed in weeks. She wasn’t ready to tear herself from the sweet ecstasy of sleep yet. 

The sensation of warm fingers carding through her hair was soothing and Jenna hummed to herself in contentment. 

_ “You need to get up, Jenna,” _ a lullaby whispered.  _ “There’s a lieutenant looking for you.” _

Jenna grunted, ignoring the speaker’s advice and focusing on the gentle tones of his voice. “Kaidan can wait,” she mumbled. She assumed her mind wanted her to meet and debrief with Alenko, anyways. 

A soft chuckle rustled her hair.  _ “He’s pretty insistent,” _ her dream warned.  _ “I haven’t been properly introduced to him yet. Should I greet him if he comes here, or stay quiet?” _

Jenna’s eyes flew open as realization burned through the lingering fog of sleep. “Garrus!” She sat up, her blankets sliding down to expose her bare chest. After quickly gathering her sheets, Jenna cleared her throat. “Kaidan’s looking for me?”

_ “Mm-hmm,” _ an amused voice drawled. 

From where she sat, her shadow fell against the taut canvas of the tent. Looking closer, Jenna watched it ripple and shudder, as though it was liquid. “Are you in my shadow?” she asked, curiosity burning through embarrassment. 

Her shadow abruptly warped and stretched into Garrus’ silhouette.  _ “By the time I came back it was already daylight. I didn’t think you’d mind?” _

“I don’t mind,” she assured him, stifling a yawn with a fist. “As far as meeting Kaidan goes, I’ll introduce you. He might be suspicious at first, but he’ll come around.” Blinking her eyes a few more times, Jenna stood up and went in search of clothes. Years of military service had stripped her of modesty, though it still managed to resurface when she was startled. She’d just finished pulling on her boots when she caught sight of the otherworldly blues of Garrus’ eyes watching her. 

She raised an eyebrow at him and he seemed to snap out of his stupor. _ “Never, uh... seen a naked human before,” _ he eventually managed. 

She wanted to ask if he liked what he saw, but instead questioned “does it change how my aura is… colored, when I’m naked versus clothed?”

_ “No.” _ Garrus shook his head from where his entire body was now visible against the wall of the tent, his own shape replacing her shadow.  _ “It's the same. Your aura’s color is more reflective of your emotions and personality. Not whether you’re clothed.  _ A long arm moved to rub the back of his neck as he cocked his head to fully look at her. _ “You’re so different from a turian.”  _ He marveled softly.

“You mean how I look naked?” Jenna refused to frown. “Am I… ugly, to you?” 

_ “No! Never!” _ he hastened to assure her. _ “Just different. In a way I’d like to… get to know better.” _

Jenna felt her ears heat up as a girlish grin attempted to pry its way out and across her face. She sucked the inside of her cheek, eyes darting to the ground. Before she could think of a reply, the sound of footsteps pulled her attention to the sealed tent flap. A new shadow fell across the entrance; decidedly human, hand poised as though considered knocking. 

“Come in, Kaidan,” she called. 

The flap pulled apart and Kaidan stepped inside, expression stern but excitement flashing in his acorn-colored eyes. “Liara thinks she’s figured it out,” he immediately informed her. “The answer to the eclipse and the silver city the turians mentioned.” He moved to stand at attention though anxiety tugged at his limbs and he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he spoke. “The asari texts predict an eclipse in the next four days.”

“Four  _ days? _ ” Jenna gasped. “Would we even be able to break down the forte and move out that fast?” She shook her head in answer to her own question. “We’ll take a team,” she murmured to herself, beginning to pace. “The best Forte Normandy has; scholars, soldiers, medics. We can send out ravens to our allies, have them meet us at, at…” She abruptly stopped, looking up to Kaidan who was still standing in a fidgety parade rest. “Where is the silver city?”

“Liara, Feron, and the other scholars are reasonably sure it’s a reference to the Citadel,” he told her, memories of its destruction clearly playing out across his tightly held expression. Kaidan and Feron had been there when the city was overrun by living corpses. Kaidan had nearly burnt out all his magic defending his husband as the pair fled with the rest of the screaming, terror riddled masses in a stampede of feet, shrieking animals, and burnt flesh. Neither talked about that day unless pressed.

“What makes them think it’s the Citadel?” Jenna asked him not unkindly. 

“Ancient scrolls dating back to when the asari first found the city described it as _ ‘hewn in silver’  _ due to the way the tallest buildings shone under direct sunlight,” Kaidan replied, gaze dropping to the dirt floor. 

_ “That would make sense,”  _ Garrus offered, glancing at Jenna.  _ “The Citadel has been around for millennia - even before the first appearance of the Reapers.”  _

Kaidan sucked in a harsh breath, stumbling into a defensive posture as he stared with unconcealed horror at Garrus. “Commander...” His voice wavered between a question and a warning. 

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Jenna soothed, stepping closer to Garrus. “This is Garrus Vakarian. He’s the turian who guided me and Wrex through the Abyssal Forest. He’s a friend.”

Kaidan’s posture remained bow-string tight, fisted hands glowing an incandescent blue. “I’d heard a turian came back with you,” he noted. “Feron said it was a vicious looking, malignant shadow.”

_ “It?” _

_ “He  _ has a name, Kaidan.” Jenna informed, brows furrowing into a scowl. “Just because Garrus looks different doesn’t mean he’s any less trustworthy or reliable than anyone else.” 

Kaidan deflated. “Yeah, of course.” He cast Garrus a chagrined look. “I- sorry.”

_ “It’s alright,” _ Garrus assured him.  _ “My people haven’t exactly done a good job of integrating ourselves with the outside races.” _

“So,” Jenna said, clapping her hands to grab everyone’s attention. “We have four days to get to the Citadel and mere minutes to locate this Catalyst. Not an easy task. I’ll take an advance team ahead but we’ll need all the armies we have for a siege like this. Kaidan?” He stood at attention. “Go get a message out to our allies - one final battle. This Catalyst is our last hope.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kaidan clipped, giving Garrus a polite nod and acknowledging “Garrus,” as he left. 

Jenna sighed before starting to pace again as she formulated a plan. She wanted to press ahead of the other Normandy soldiers. She and a small group could attempt to reach the Citadel and Catalyst while the allied forces fended off the blighted corpses that plagued the once great utopia. The Reapers themselves had burrowed deep into the earth, pumping corruption up through the blighted soil. The odds of digging them out were slim, but they had to take them. 

Who to bring as her vanguard assault team? She’d want Liara, Tali, Kaidan, James, Kasumi, Garrus- 

She froze. “Are you going to come with us?” she asked the man in question, hoping she didn’t sound too worried. 

_ “I’m with you, Jenna,”  _ he purred, stepping out of her shadow and coming to stand in front of her.  _ “I’ve only heard about the Citadel in stories. It’ll be nice to see it with my own eyes.” _

Jenna gave him a bitter smile. “I’m afraid it might not live up to the songs,” she informed him, even as she moved to hold his hand. “The Reapers pulverized the city a few days before Wrex and I went in search of your people.” 

_ “Even if I’m just moral support, I’m with you to the end.” _ He replied, face lowering to hers, an unspoken question in the arcane fires of his eyes.

Jenna pressed her lips to his mouth. “To the end,” she whispered back. 

**********

The stars sang in an unending chorus as they blinked in their velvet cradle. Garrus sat upon a grassy hill above where Jenna and her selected team had made camp. The world outside the forest was beautiful. A pity he was destined to experience it during the Reaper blight. He wondered dimly if that was the reason he’d been unable to find any flowers. He’d searched all the dells and meadows along their journey but hadn’t even seen buds. He sighed. It seemed even the simplest of romantic gestures was beyond his ability. 

His mind flickered to earlier that day. Kaidan and Feron holding hands, auras igniting in love, fear and courage. The human lieutenant had already lost so much, he’d learned. The thought of losing Feron weighed heavily upon him, even as they shared a parting kiss. The drell’s dark eyes and topaz aura called to Kaidan’s turned back, even as he came to join Jenna and the others. 

A gentle exhale startled him from his thoughts and he impulsively arched, spines and quills erupting from his cowl and shoulders. 

“Hello, Garrus,” the speaker greeted. Her platinum aura flexed pleasantly along with her voice, though her face was concealed under a thick black hood. 

Garrus marveled that he hadn’t noticed Kasumi sooner. Though, Jenna had mentioned the dark-clad woman was a thief. He supposed it made sense she blended with the shadows nearly as well as he did. Nearly. Now that she’d revealed herself, her internal glow was unignorable. 

_ “Just relaxing?”  _ he asked, reabsorbing his spiky armor. 

“Something like that,” she smiled, turning to stare down at the glowing fires of the camp. “Reminiscing, I suppose.” Her aura flared into a mournful grass-green.

_ “Someone you lost?”  _ Garrus asked gently. 

Kasumi hummed, resting her chin on her knees. “I’ve lost too many friends to this war,” she noted quietly. “The one I cared about most died long before the Reapers, though.” 

_ “Why fight if you’ve lost everyone?” _ Garrus couldn’t help but ask. He fought for Jenna and the possibility - albeit remote - that the Reapers might press into the Abyssal Forest. 

“I suppose I fight for hope,” Kasumi answered, eyes glittering from beneath her hood. “Hope that the good and beautiful in this world can endure. Hope for a future, friendships. Without hope, there’s not much point in anything.” She shrugged her small shoulders. “Isn’t that why you’re fighting? Hope for something?”

_ “Hope for a future,” _ Garrus agreed. He left out the part about that future being with Jenna, specifically, though by Kasumi’s knowing gaze he wondered if she suspected as much. Wrex hadn’t joined them on this infiltration mission ahead of the allied armies. Yet, the old krogan seemed to have  _ mentioned  _ to multiple people that Garrus was smitten with the human commander. At least, Garrus assumed Wrex was the culprit. How else did everyone seem to know?

“That reminds me,” Kasumi said, moving to pull something from the concealed pocket of her cloak. “I thought you might like this.” Garrus felt his jaw drop at the gorgeous, large red flower that Kasumi held out to him. “Careful for the thorns,” she warned as he took the bloom. 

_ “How did you know?”  _ he asked, tearing his eyes away from the dancing crimson pressed into soft petals.

“I’m happy for you,” Kasumi replied by way of an answer. “Love like yours and Shepard’s is hard to come by.”

There it was. The buried secret of his soul.  _ Love.  _ He’d been drawn to Jenna immediately, feelings growing stronger as his affections were returned. He’d tried to ignore it, the emotion too all-consuming when there was a war to end all wars at his feet. Yet… Kasumi made it sound so inconsequential. As though it were a simple fact. Conflicted as he was with the timing, he couldn't deny it any longer: he was in love Jenna.   


Garrus opened and shut his mouth three times, unsure what to say. Eventually, he mumbled out a  _ “thank you,” _ which didn’t seem sufficient to encompass his gratitude for either the flower or the poignant observation.

An aura’s icy flicker suddenly drew his attention. It was approaching the camp at an alarming speed, though something about its hue was intimately familiar. Garrus carefully absorbed the flower before striding off after the intruder. Kasumi followed him with her eyes, though she remained seated. Garrus arched and split, falling onto four, powerful legs before rushing off to investigate. 

He charged at the other turian who raced forward just as intently, only pulling back when a collision was imminent. Garrus abruptly changed back to his given form as the newcomer followed suit.

_ “Sol? What are you doing here?”  _ he asked his sister, even as he moved to place a hand on her shoulder in greeting. 

_“I came to get_ you,” Solana replied. _“Dad’s beside himself._ _You abandoned your post Garrus - left the forest without orders.”_ She shook her head in disbelief as she spoke. _“You have to come back.”_

_ “Why?” _ Garrus demanded.  _ “So dad can berate me? So I can beg Captain Gavorn to take me back?”  _ He sighed, closing his eyes and mentally damming up the emotions that threatened to spill out.  _ “I’m going to help, Sol. I won’t sit back in the sanctuary of Cipritine while the Reapers desecrate those beyond our borders.” _

_ “Why the sudden interest in outsiders?”  _ his sister asked, crossing her arms while a growl laced her words.  _ “You’ve never been  _ this  _ interested in those beyond our borders.”  _ Her eyes narrowed to mere sapphire splinters as she regarded him.  _ “And when,” _ she began, slowly circling him,  _ “did you suddenly become so red?” _

_ “I’m not red,”  _ Garrus immediately retorted. But as he considered it, he  _ had  _ been spending a great deal of his time in Jenna’s shadow and well… love had a way of coloring people. Had he taken on some of her scarlet aura?

_ “You  _ are  _ red,” _ Solana pressed.  _ “Your own aura is leaching out into vermilion and sangria. Who is she?”  _ She suddenly demanded, pinning him down with an intense stare.  _ “And don’t deny it!” _ she added when he didn’t immediately respond. 

There was no point in lying. Garrus wondered fleetingly if Kasumi and the other outsiders had noticed the difference: the subtle shift in color and emotion when it came to Jenna.  _ “The human commander,” _ he admitted. 

Sol threw her hands in the air, turning away from him in a flaring burst of exasperated crystal sparks.  _ “You’re going to throw your life away for a human? Spirits, Garrus!” _

_ “I’m going to help,”  _ he growled defiantly, aura solidifying into a resolved cobalt. 

_ “How can you help?”  _ His sister whirled around to face him, mandibles pinched tightly to her face.  _ “You can’t stop the Reapers. Nobody can. They’re just a fact of life.” _ Her arms fell to her sides as she glanced away.  _ “What can a single turian possibly do in the face of such totality?” _

_ “Fight,” _ Garrus implored her, taking a step closer.  _ “Don’t just watch from the shadows. There’s hope that we can end this. The old songs spoke of a being called Catalyst who dwells within the Citadel. We can contact them during the next eclipse in two days, end the cycle, the death, the destruction.” _

_ “You really believe they can win?” _ his sister asked, aura momentarily flaring turquoise as she gazed out over Jenna’s camp. 

_ “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have hope,” _ Garrus confirmed.  _ “Please, Sol. They have a chance. With our help and this new information, they  _ can  _ win.” _

Solana hummed, talons tapping against her folded arms in thought.  _ “Alright, Garrus,”  _ she finally assented. _ “If I can help, I will. But if things are lost, I’m leaving, and taking you with me.” _

Garrus held back a scoff. His little sister couldn’t force him to do anything and she damn well knew it. But she was a skilled fighter and hope or no, Jenna could use all the help she could get. 

_ “I’ll introduce you to the human commander in charge of this campaign,” _ he advised as they both melted into the grass, forms becoming stretched and narrow.  _ “We should reach the outskirts of the Citadel tomorrow night. With both Vakarians helping, the odds are even better.” _

Solana chuckled as they shot off through the damp blades of grass.  _ “Does your beloved human commander have a name?” _ she inquired.  _ “Jenna,” _ Garrus responded with a slight purr.  _ “Jenna Shepard.” _


	7. **Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - Sexual content after chapter break

James shifted on his feet, ignoring the soft scrape of steel from his heavy armor as he rolled out a shoulder. Commander Shepard had ordered an early morning meeting to lay out the plan for assaulting the Citadel. James would be part of the vanguard, pushing to break through the city walls and toward its heart, where everyone seemed to think the answer to ending the Reapers lay. 

That wasn’t what had him twitching in place, though. His unease was from the Commander’s serious expression when she’d approached him before assuming position at the front of the tent to detail teams hammer and shield and their respective roles. There was something in her voice when she advised that she had  _ “a special assignment” _ for him that left him feeling like he’d rolled in stinging nettles. 

His constant movement was beginning to rub off on those next to him. Kaidan clenched his jaw in shared anxiety and Tali worried her hands in the fabric of her leggings not covered by plate-mail. 

Blessedly, Shepard dismissed the team to begin the final march to join up with the armies massing on the Citadel’s outskirts. James lingered near the tent flap until everyone else had left. 

“Vega,” Shepard nodded to him. “You’re aware of the turian presence in the camp?” 

“Uh, yeah,” James rubbed the back of his neck. Everyone knew about Garrus - the wraith who traveled in the commander’s shadow by day and shifted and warped with the waning moon to hunt the fields and meadows at night. James had glimpsed him once - or he thought he had - morphing into a swift, dog-like creature and loping off and away from camp. 

“Garrus is no longer our only active turian ally,” Shepard elaborated, stepping closer to him. “There’s another among his people who wishes to fight. His younger sister, actually.”

James rocked back on his heels from the force of this news. There was a second turian in the camp? How long had she been here?

“Turians shape-shifting abilities are hampered by the sun, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” Shepard continued. “Solana Vakarian will need to… hitch a ride in someone’s shadow during the day.”

James felt his eyes bulge as the Commander stared at him expectantly. “Me?” he squeaked before clearing his throat and repeating in his normal tone of voice, “me? You, you want me to-uh… share my shadow?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Shepard informed him, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “You won’t even notice she’s there unless you’re having a conversation. You might feel a little warmer, but you’re constantly complaining about the cooler weather anyway.”

Was that why the Commander had asked him to play host to Garrus’ sister? Because she thought he might enjoy a magical shadow warmer? “Uh, if you’re sure Commander, then I guess I don’t mind sharing my shadow.” He flexed his fingers, greaves creaking as he did so. The sound served to help ground him; the reassuring song of steel. 

“I think you’ll get along with her,” the Commander said, nodding for him to follow her as she exited the tent. “You’ll only need to ‘share’ as you put it, during the daylight hours. Solana can move freely once it’s dusk.”

James nodded dumbly even as his feet propelled him after Shepard’s smaller figure. He watched her shadow as they headed for the Commander’s tent. It seemed normal and he wondered if Garrus had stayed behind with his sister. 

Upon entering Shepard's tent, she called out to Garrus. The shadow cast from her cot jumped to life, rushing across the tent canvas to merge with the Commander’s, making it seem bulkier. 

“Garrus, this is James Vega. One of the finest soldiers I’ve ever served with,” Shepard introduced. James felt his chest swell with pride even as he uncertainly faced her shadow on the wall and politely nodded. 

_ “Pleasure to meet you, James,” _ a dual toned voice replied. James swore that Shepard’s shadow bowed to him, but then again, it’d been a crazy morning and he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

“James has agreed that Solana can ride along in his shadow while we make for the Citadel,” Shepard informed Garrus. “Is she…” the Commander trailed off, eyes flickering across the benign furniture and the shade it cast. 

_ “I’m here,”  _ the shadow from a travel chest replied.  _ “It’s nice to meet you, James.” _ In an action similar to Garrus, though not as rapid, a large, ebony shadow peeled away from its previous position, strolling along the tent canvas and then slowly merging with his own. _ “It’s roomy in here,” _ Solana commented.

“Are you calling me fat?” came James’ knee-jerk response. 

Shepard burst out laughing as a horrified sounding Solana swore.  _ “No! Not at all! You’re very muscular! And fit! And-” _

_ “Nice to see you’ve found a fit, muscular friend to travel with,”  _ Garrus drawled in a lilting voice. James’ shadow rippled and somehow, he could feel Solana’s embarrassment. It was enough to humanize her - well, kind of - and relax the taut line of his shoulders. 

“Hey, I’m a lot to take in.” James grinned, striking a pose and flexing. “Just nice to know it’s appreciated.”

_ “Very,” _ came a shy sounding response. 

“Well, we’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Shepard advised, turning to leave. “Saddle up Vega, we need to move.”

Alone - or not quite - in the Commander’s tent, James cocked his head down at his shadow. “So, you’re Garrus’ little sister?”

_ “What I lack in his years I make up for in maturity,” _ came the dry response. No, dry wasn’t the correct word. Solana sounded like a good wine tasted; rich, with undertones of tannin and smoked mahogany. It was the prettiest voice he’d ever heard.

_ “...Thank you.” _

James realized with crippling embarrassment that he’d voiced his thoughts out loud. Clearing his throat, he set a brisk pace for where the horses were being saddled. Staying in place clearly meant he’d say stupid things, best to put his body in motion. “Will being on horseback give you more room to move?” he asked Solana, picturing the massive shadow cast by his  Frisian, Kodiak. 

_ “Maybe?” _ Solana responded.  _ “I’ve never seen a horse before.” _

“Ah, you’ll love Kodiak,” James assured her. “He’s a gentle giant, but fast as hell when he’s gotta be.” Approaching the make-shift corral, James waved to Steve. “Hey Esteban, we ready to go?”

“Almost,” Steve returned, not bothering to lift his head from where he was cinching the saddle around Kodiak’s belly. The horse snorted impatiently, pawing the ground and jostling its caregiver. “Shit! Easy there,” Steve soothed, adjusting his stance.

“Language, Esteban, there’s a lady present.” James leaned against the hitching rail, trying to keep the smirk off his face. 

Steve raised his head, peering around James as a frown bit into his features. “Where?” he finally asked.

“Solana, Steven Cortez,” James introduced, walking closer to his friend. His shadow stopped just short of the other mans’ feet. “Esteban, this is Solana Vakarian.”

_ “Pleasure to meet you, Steven Cortez,” _ Solana greeted. James’ shadow pulled and stretched until it resembled the shape of… someone and something else entirely. Solana, he supposed. 

Steve gasped, stumbling backwards. Kodiak pinned his ears against his head and stamped his feet at the new, foreign presence in their midst. 

“Woah, easy, boy!” James gripped Kodiak’s reins, before bringing another hand to pat his steed’s neck. “Don’t be shy, Esteban, say hello.” James grinned at his friend once the horse had calmed. 

“Is that- are you… you’re a turian?” Steve questioned, still standing a good five feet away. 

_ “I’m Garrus’ sister,”  _ Solana replied.  _ “I’ve come to help.” _

Steve slowly nodded his head as the information took root. “We can use all the help we can get,” he acknowledged. “It’ll be a pleasure to fight alongside you,” he added with a genuine smile. 

Solana made a series of chirping noises, not unlike a whippoorwill. As James climbed astride Kodiak, he watched as his shadow melded with that of the horse. His own shape appeared to smoke for an instant before Solana moved to occupy the larger shade she’d been provided. 

Steve came to stand alongside them upon his own horse. “Shall we?”

James clicked his tongue to Kodiak and they took off at a brisk trot toward the road, where a long train of horses and soldiers already flowed in a seemingly endless line. The final push for the Citadel was going to be rough; James had no delusions about their chances. However, Commander Shepard made the impossible reality. She’d found the turians and a possible end to the waking nightmare of the Reapers. 

James set his jaw. He’d see this through - with any luck, they all would.

**********

The setting sun held a sinister glow to its withering rays. Normally, dusk brought with it the siren’s call of freedom and exploration. Sol was with her new friend, probably showing off her shape-shifting. James had been more than a little excited to see how turians hunted and the pair had disappeared into the rolling shadows of twilight. 

Garrus had stayed in the camp. Or rather, he’d stayed with Jenna. She was exhausted - the incandescent, shimmering scarlet of her aura had faded to a cloying garnet, thick with worry. She’d been hunched over the various maps and charts laid out on the table that took up most of her tent since they’d pitched it - nearly five hours ago. 

_ “Jenna,”  _ he called, moving from her shadow to stand next to her.  _ “You need to rest.” _

She sighed, the noise sounding like it was being dragged from her very soul. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she replied, the heel of her hand coming to knead red rimmed eyes. “So many people are counting on us - on  _ me. _ It’s all hanging by a thread, Garrus.” She turned to look at him with irises like clouded jade. “We don’t even know if this Catalyst is real. And we only have a vague idea of when and where to find them.”

_ “We’ll find them,”  _ Garrus assured her, sounding far more confident than he was.  _ “We’ll make them help, stop the blight, the death, all of it.” _ He reached out a hand and gently cupped Jenna’s face.  _ “And when this is over, I’ll be waiting for you.”  _ Remembering the flower Kasumi had given him, he pulled it from his form, offering Jenna the rich, red bloom.

He wondered momentarily if he’d said or done something wrong as tears began to trickle down Jenna’s beautiful face, even as she took the flower from him. Then she was kissing him, possessive and strong and so  _ alive. _ Even behind closed eyelids he could see the crimson inferno that heralded her passion and dimly registered his own glacial blue aura seeping into hungry tones of cobalt. 

_ “Jenna, I-” _

“Garrus-”

They both chuckled, the husky sound mixing in the scant space between them. When Garrus opened his eyes he was greeted to Jenna’s predatory face, pupils blown wide as black moons rimmed with green. “I don’t know how it works for turians,” Jenna began, still staring intently at him. “But, if this is going to be our last night together before we charge into hell, then I want to  _ really  _ be with you, Garrus. Physically, I mean.”

_ “I’d like that,” _ he managed, head nodding furiously even as a tell-tale pressure began to build behind his groin plates.  _ “It’ll take more than Reapers to come between this cross-species liaison,” _ he added, trying for levity. 

Jenna pressed herself against him and he melded around her just shy of fusing his aura with hers. Aura fusing was a deeply intimate act among his race — the union of color and creation of something new and bright. While he wasn’t entirely sure Jenna could reciprocate, he wanted to share, to be with her,  _ truly  _ be with her. Though as a wanton moan left her lips he decided that they could wait. Right now was about the physical and maybe, possibly, snatching a moment of peace for just the two of them.

_ “Tell me what to do, where to touch you,” _ he pleaded over the needy, roiling subvocals that vied to drown out his primary voice. _ “I can shift, be anything you want, anything you need,” _ he offered. He could morph into a human if that form would bring her the greatest pleasure. Or, or, or-

“I want you as you are,” Jenna replied firmly, pulling back to regard him. “I don’t want you in another shape - not if we don’t have to. I want  _ you, _ Garrus. I’ll show you what to do and you can show me. Deal?” 

His plated mouth crashed against hers in reply.  _ Let me love you, _ his secondary voice begged in a language he’d come to understand was below the range of human hearing.  _ Let me take away your pain, your worry.  _

Jenna moaned as she pressed into him. “I’ll show you if you show me,” she whispered against his face. 

_ “Yeah,” _ he managed as she rolled her hips against him. It seemed a few things translated across the species line well enough. 

“The candles,” Jenna panted as he laved a hot trail with his tongue from her clavicle to her ear. “We gotta- we need to snuff them out.”

Forcing himself to step away, Garrus tightened his hand into a fist. The shadows in the room responded, bearing down onto the flames and crushing them out, leaving only thin, gray trails of smoke in their wake. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Jenna marveled from where she was sitting on the table top, the flower pushed safely to the edge. “The whole time Wrex and I were in the Abyssal Forest, could you have-”

_ “Why would I?” _ he asked, returning to wrap her in his arms, face pressed into the crook of her neck.  _ “You needed the light and besides,” _ he punctuated his statement with a gentle nip to Jenna’s ear.  _ “I liked the way the fire illuminated your face.” _

Jenna’s hands gripped his neck and the back of his head. Fingers pressed absently against the sensitive patch of hide behind his fringe and Garrus let out a sinful subvocal cry of pleasure. It’d been too damn long since he’d been with someone! 

_ “Right there,”  _ he told her, a hand moving to guide her fingers back behind his fringe.  _ “That’s uh, mmm. An erogenous zone.”  _ He gasped as clever fingers kneaded the place he’d shown her, igniting a molten fire in his abdomen. 

His hands moved to squeeze Jenna’s waist experimentally. By her lack of reaction he figured that humans weren’t sensitive there. Jenna moved his hands to her breasts. “Here,” she told him in an airy voice. “And especially here.” She guided his thumbs over stiff peaks in the center of her breasts. “Maybe rub and play with my nipples-” she let out a heady moan as Garrus rolled his thumbs over them. Her aura flared a sultry pomegranate red, sticky and sweet, and he groaned at the promise in the color. 

Jenna collected herself and resumed her attentions behind his fringe, though her hips lifted off the table to grind against his pelvis in an action that had him fully unsheathing with a hiss. Her hand slid down his keel and torso, coming to run along the length of his shaft.

“You’re big,” she murmured with approval. Her hand wrapped around him as she pumped from base to tip, his own natural lubrication aiding in the process. “You’re going to feel amazing, Garrus,” she purred, picking up speed.

He cried out in pleasure, mandibles flared wide and eyes staring unseeing at the tent canopy. This felt  _ good _ . So good. Too good! _ “Sta… stop, stop!” _ He pushed her back before quickly pinning her to the table. He chuckled darkly against her lips, tongue licking at them in question.  _ “Let me at least be inside you before I cum,”  _ he admonished. 

“Fine by me,” Jenna breathed, tongue rushing out to tangle with his. 

_ “Do you want me to shift anything about my uh…” _ he trailed off, cocking his head.

“What? Oh! No, no, I think you’re perfect as is,” she assured him. “Though, I guess if you’re offering, some soft ridges along the underside might feel really good?”

_ “That I can do,” _ he replied, making the subtle alteration as his hands moved back to Jenna’s breasts.

She ground out a series of curses before peeling off her tunic and laying back on the table. Bare from the waist up, her skin seemed to glow, as though her internal fires were shining through. She was stripping out of her pants and boots before he could articulate how beautiful she looked. 

At last, when all her clothes had been flung to the floor, he pressed himself against warm, supple flesh.  _ “Spirits, Jenna,” _ he growled. The scent of her arousal was a thick, heady perfume that fogged his senses; citrus and juniper and dusky secrets. Mirroring her actions from earlier, he trailed a hand down her waist, coming to the juncture between her legs. 

“Umm, do you think you could maybe… retract your claws?” Jenna asked in a voice that jostled between lust and trepidation. 

Garrus absorbed his talons until the tips of his fingers were smooth and rounded. He returned his hand, pressing against the short, coarse hairs at her entrance.  _ “Better?”  _ he asked, the lolling expression on her face already telling him the answer. 

Jenna pressed into his hand and Garrus obliged by circling her opening before slowly pushing a finger inside. She was warm and wet and _ tight. _ Garrus felt his cock throb at the notion of being hilted inside her. He withdrew his finger to the knuckle before pushing back in, reveling in Jenna’s whimpers and throaty entreaties of “more, yes, please, Garrus!”

He repeated the action, increasing his pace, fucking her with his finger. Jenna was splayed out on the table beneath him like a living sacrifice; chest rising and falling with deep breaths, blunt nails biting into the wood of the tabletop as her aura shivered in waves of wanton plumb and ruby. He was more than willing to accept the offering and when she moved a hand to circle the small nub above her entrance, he batted her away, another finger coming to rub it as she chanted his name. On a hunch, he lengthened and thickened the digit inside her, curling it against a rough patch. 

Jenna came undone with a silent scream, inner walls constricting around him. His cock throbbed painfully, desperate for attention and he quickly withdrew his hand before moving to position himself. 

He pushed the tip of his cock inside her sodden entrance, carefully watching Jenna’s face for any sign of pain or hesitation. She canted her hips and he ran the underside of his ribbed shaft against her folds, straining not to growl too loudly and risk unwanted company. 

“Garrus, please,” Jenna panted, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her brow as she stared up at him. “Come on,” she encouraged, lifting her legs to warp around his waist and pull him closer. 

_ “Jenna!”  _ he sobbed, eyes rolling back in his head as he sheathed himself. He collapsed onto his elbows, eyes screwed shut against the overwhelming rush of sensation.  _ “Fuck!” _ he gasped. _ “Jenna, fuck! You’re so tight! So tight!” _ He pulled out only to quickly push back in with enough force to make Jenna’s breasts bounce. 

Her head fell back against the wooden table with an audible  _ thump, _ but her heels dug into his unplated waist and he growled as he pumped into her hard and deep. He’d never considered himself very talkative during sex, but he couldn’t have silenced his vocals if he’d tried. His secondary voiced screamed Jenna’s praises, his adoration, his devotion, how fucking  _ perfect  _ she felt. 

For her own part, Jenna gasped out his name and a string of curses as she ground against him, chasing her own release. When it came, her body went rigid, inner walls squeezing him in a ripe, heated vice. He sputtered out a litany of swears, pounding into her as his own orgasm crashed over him and he spent himself inside her slick channel. 

He saw spots behind his eyes and when they cleared, his vision swam with an image of Jenna lying beneath him, eyes lidded, body relaxed and a faint smile lingering on her lips. “Hell, Garrus,” she huffed, face flushed a lovely shade of pink. “A girl could get used to this.”

_ “I’d hope so,” _ he replied, tenderly brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.  _ “When this is all over,” _ he started, vocals wavering nervously, _ “would you consider… being a one turian kind of lady?” _

Jenna pulled his head down for a sloppy, wet kiss. “I already am,” she whispered. 

They needed to defeat the Reapers immediately, Garrus decided, subvocals singing in elation even as he laughed against Jenna’s lips. He’d be damned if he found love only to lose it. They’d find Catalyst, end the cycles and get down to the business of living. 

Gift art from the lovely and talented [@blu-scribbles](https://blu-scribbles.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up to readers that chapter 8 might be slightly delayed. I'm officially working from home now and haven't found a good routine for writing yet.


	8. The Beam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic descriptions of battle

The footfalls of thousands rattled the earth as the combined armies assumed formation. Jenna, James, and the Vakarians took position at the front of the line. Asari and krogan, human and drell, elcor and quarian, all the races dressed in the trappings of war with blade, arrow, and mace, whetted and ready to bite. 

Overhead, the midday sun hung orange and sinister like a cyclops’ eye next to the dark sphere of the moon. Jenna tried not to stare as old wisdom advised against it. At a snail's pace, the moon crawled across the sky, on track to embrace the sun. When that happened, they would charge. 

The blighted were aware of their approach, though some unknown force kept the rotting ghouls from attacking. The husks of those the Reapers had poisoned howled with primitive fury, awakening ancient memories of living huddled in caves around firelight amidst the hungry calls of wolves. 

“Almost,” Jenna muttered to herself as much as to the others. “Not yet.” 

_ “Something’s different,”  _ Garrus whispered from the shadow of her warhorse.  _ “I feel… stronger, somehow.” _

“It’s probably the eclipse,” Jenna said. “Wrex said that eclipses feed magic."

“Does that mean the Reapers will be stronger too?” James asked, leaning over his mount’s saddle. “They’re bred from the same old magic as turians.”

“We’re about to find out,” Jenna replied, freeing her sword. The world fell under a sepia shroud as the air came alive with the battle cries of nearly a dozen races. The bellows of krogan, the deep reverberations of elcor and shrill yells of salarians burst around her as Jenna spurred her horse forward. 

She and James rode ahead of the advancing army, their horses’ hooves thundering against compacted earth. Flashing ahead of them like an onyx river, Garrus and Solana seemed to merge together. Their forms stretched into a dark blanket that slammed down on top of the writhing swarms of undead. Even over the din of battle, Jenna heard a wet  _ squelch _ and snap of brittle bones. When the turians launched skyward again, the broken corpses of nearly thirty corrupted lay pulverized and crushed into rocky dirt. 

Garrus flew back to her, body warping into a shield that blew back the grasping, shrieking husks as Jenna and James plowed ahead amidst the clash of steel and gnaw of axe into flesh. “Get to the Presidium tower!” Jenna screamed to James. “That’s the true heart of the Citadel!” 

Wordlessly, James smacked his horse’s rear with the broadside of his sword as he kept pace. Solana circled around him like a vortex of knives, eviscerating anything that stepped too close in a malignant rain of organs and entrails. Garrus never strayed far from Jenna’s side, though he lept into crowds of corrupted, erupting in a storm of spears. 

Up ahead, the light changed. To Jenna’s mind, what looked like a beam of energy shot down from the tormented heavens. “There!” she screamed, voice raw from yelling. “Straight ahead!”

Garrus catapulted skyward only to seemingly explode in a deluge of obsidian arrows. The sharpened points rained down onto the advancing husks in her path, slicing and splitting the screeching mob into tattered pieces of flesh and sinew. 

As the beam grew closer, Jenna mentally raced to formulate a plan. They’d be sucked into it and come face to face with this Catalyst being and then- Well, she wasn’t totally clear on what then. She supposed the answer would come to her once they made it that far. 

The inhuman growls of husks, banshees, and other warped abominations of the Reapers filled her ears as one by one the others accompanying her and James fell or were waylaid by the rushing ghouls. They had to keep moving, they were so close,  _ so close! _

She heard James swear and turned to see him leap from his wounded horse, sword in hand. The banshee attacking him exploded in an eruption of putrid, black blood as Solana tore through it, coming to assume her true form next to James. 

“Go!” He screamed with a jerk of his head. “We’ll hold them back!”

Jenna’s horse frothed at the mouth, on the verge of collapse, but still she pushed onward. When her steed fell, hooves slipping on the slick river of Reaper gore coursing over the vile ground, Jenna rolled from the saddle and kept running. She hacked and slashed at the blighted in her path, Garrus whooshing overheard or else next to her, a trail of splintered bone and broken corpses in his wake.

When she extended her hand toward the pulsing, effervescent beam, she expected to be sucked skywards, toward the eclipse. Instead, there was a loud twanging sound and she was pulled beneath the earth. She was aware of rock and clay rushing past her, though nothing touched her skin. Then, she was sprawled on what felt like a dusty, cobblestone floor, engulfed in complete darkness.

“Garrus?” She called, feeling for her surroundings. Pushing to her feet, silence greeted her.

She opened her mouth to call out again before Garrus’ eyes sparked into life in front of her: twin spheres of cerulean lighting encompassing dark moons.

“Garrus!” She felt herself wrapped in a comforting embrace, a cocoon of love, assurance and devotion. She wasn’t quite sure  _ how _ she was identifying those emotions, but on some level, she simply knew.

_ “I’m here,”  _ Garrus assured before his eyes moved to scan their surroundings.  _ “Wherever  _ here _ is.” _

“Can you see anything?” Jenna asked hopefully. “I’m practically blind.”

_ “We’re in what looks like an ancient temple,”  _ Garrus advised. _ “There’s weird hieroglyphics carved into the walls. And the magic in here is  _ strong . _ I can practically taste it.”  _ He made a concerned whirring sound in his vocals. 

“We have to find Catalyst,” Jenna said, groping for Garrus’ hand and interlocking their fingers. “Is the magic you’re feeling stronger in a particular direction? Can you follow it?”

He hummed.  _ “Yeah,” _ he replied after a moment.  _ “It’s thicker this way.” _ With a tug he led Jenna further into the subterranean ether, her footsteps echoing in the deep.

“What do you see?” Jenna pressed. “I need you to be my eyes.”

_ “We’re close,” _ he answered.  _ “The stone is sleek obsidian here, like it’s been polished. And the magic is actually clinging to corners and surfaces like cobwebs. It’s old magic. But… familiar, somehow.”  _ He rumbled in thought.  _ “I don’t know how to explain it, but my aura is drawn to it. It’s like seeing your reflection in a rippling pool - you know it’s you even though the image is distorted.” _

“So, you’re saying this magic is similar to yours?”

_ “Eerily similar,” _ he agreed before coming to an abrupt halt.

Before Jenna could ask why he’d stopped, a figure flared into life. It looked like it was formed of pure, white-hot sunlight, and Jenna was sure she wasn’t imagining the heat radiating from it in licks of solar flare along the limbs. The shape roughly looked like a turain, but at times it’d shift, then it looked almost like a human child, or even a krogan. 

“Catalyst,” Jenna acknowledged. 

The being in question strode forward on the legs of a human before it’s face took on definition. It’s eyes appeared dark, but staring closer revealed that they were really infinite voids filled with white, whirling stars.

Jenna forced herself not to recoil, though she squeezed Garrus’ hand tighter as she spoke. “I’m Commander-”

“We know who you are,” Catalyst dismissed, turning to walk past her. The light radiating from its body fell on octagon shaped stones and monolithic statues representing people and beasts Jenna had only heard about in fairy tales. “We know why you’ve come,” the ancient being continued. “But you, Garrus Vakarian,” it glanced those horrible eyes back at them. “You were not expected. Why is a turian helping the outsiders?”

_ “I-” _ Garrus began, but Catalyst held up a suddenly turian looking hand. 

“Your aura is rather red for one so blue.” It turned to give Garrus its full attention. “In all the passing of eons, clambering of life in its messy, chaotic push for greatness, we’ve never encountered  _ love _ in its rawest form.” Catalyst drew closer, figure small once more, appearing like a curious asari child.

“Turians are my favorite creations,” Catalyst sighed dreamily. “They don’t rip out trees, dam rivers, or plunder the oceans in search of wealth. They are a civilization entirely at one with the universe. But  _ you,”  _ Catalyst was suddenly a glowering krogan, scowling at Jenna as though she’d tread horse shit into its home. “Humans and the others. You destroy all my gifts. The world is yours to pillage and wreck, all in the name of progress.” Catalyst scoffed. “No matter how many times we wipe the slate clean, the result is always the same.”

“It can be different this time,” Jenna urged, though it seemed like something was clamping down on her throat. She struggled to breathe as she spoke. “We can learn from the turians," she gasped, "we can coexist without destroying our world.” She swayed on her feet, Garrus’ long arms wrapping protectively around her.

_ “Leave her alone!” _ he snarled.  _ “She’s different, these outsiders are all different! They love the land and each other, they’re capable of learning, of change!” _

“Indeed?” 

Jenna sucked in a deep breath. It felt as though a foot had been lifted off her windpipe.

“No one has ever crossed the threshold of our inner sanctum, though many have tried,” Catalyst mused, shifting its shape to that of a thoughtful looking salarian. “No turian has ever fallen in love with an outsider. Things  _ do _ appear different this cycle.”

Eyes like asteral whirlpools held Jenna fast in their cosmic stare. Garrus let a growl slip between barred teeth. _ “Don’t. Touch. Her.”  _ He enunciated in a menacing tone.

Suddenly Catalyst had four eyes as it took the form of a batarian. “You intrigue me,” Catalyst informed Jenna, ignoring Garrus. “It’d be a waste not to see where this,” it gestured between Jenna and Garrus, “leads. Though it does seem cruel.” It advised Garrus, coming to stand directly in front of him.“To love a creature who will die while you’re still young. You might live 5,000 years while she will fade, body nothing but dust in a literal blink.”

_ “I don’t care,”  _ Garrus returned, his own form flowing over Jenna’s shoulders like a midnight waterfall.  _ “Any future together, no matter how long is worth it.” _

Jenna nodded, squaring her shoulders should Catalyst retaliate. Instead it shifted forms, becoming a drell. “You share his opinion, I take it?” Catalyst asked.

“Garrus is the one thing I’ve ever been truly selfish about,” she stated. “I want a future with him. A future for all of us. I’m willing to learn, to change to make that happen.”

“Oh, you’ll change.” Catalyst said cryptically, drell head tilted toward the ceiling. “Should the pursuit of progress lead to your ruin, you’ll have only yourselves to blame. Time is meaningless to a being such as myself. What’s a few millennia to see how you do without my intervention?”

The air seemed instantaneously fresher and older. Overhead, she heard a loud crack, as though the ceiling were splitting apart. Garrus swirled around her, eyes focused on Catalyst. 

“I’ll call my pets back,” Catalyst continued, even as its temple began to disintegrate around them. “The Reapers won’t be the source of your undoing. Your fate is your own. I look forward to watching what you do - how you change.”

There was a booming crash as part of the ceiling collapsed, followed quickly by large segments of the wall. “Make haste, Garrus Vakarian,” Catalyst suggested. “With my magic gone, there’s nothing keeping the ravages of time at bay, and you,” it spared Jenna and Garrus a parting glance, “are still very much creatures of time.”

There was a bright flash and then all hell broke loose. Rock crumbled and disintegrated, the statutes turned to dust before her eyes as the weight of eons came crashing down on the enchanted stone.

_ “There!” _ Garrus yelled moving toward a shaft of light puncturing down through the temple. 

Jenna ran as the floor warped and buckled, hitting the beam with Garrus still protectively swirling around her. She was pulled into the light, but it seemed delayed this time. She was sucked heavenwards in slow motion as gravel and silt stung her eyes. She coughed, flailing at the layers of earth that assaulted her. 

_ “Hold on!” _ Garrus yelled over the deafening din of wind and rock. His dark form enveloped her. It was like he was pushing into her lungs, ridding them of the debris. She breathed him in, feeling a sense of euphoria. Her vision swam in  _ blue. _ Not just blue, for there were hints of fuchsia and charcoal as well, but she saw Garrus as he must see her; a beautiful prism of color with pulling forces of love and devotion. She reached out a hand that glowed like volcanic lava, running it through his aura. New colors rippled off where she touched him; purples, indigo, the navy pitch of midnight, the golden glow of dawn. 

Then, she was laying flat on her back above the ground as overhead the sky seeped back into familiar blue. She could distinctly hear cheering and groggily, rose to her feet. 

_ “The Reapers are gone,” _ Garrus marveled from her shadow.  _ “You did it, Jenna.” _

“We did it,” she grinned. Jenna whooped as loudly as she could, voice joining in the chaotic, joyous clamber. It was finally over. They’d won. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! That said, it'll probably be late since I'm still working from home. Hopefully people are still enjoying this story. =)


	9. Epilouge

It had been a slow thing. Integrating the Hierarchy into the Citadel Council had often felt like slogging through a muddy swamp of political pitfalls and racial discord. They had succeeded though, in no small part due to Garrus’ father. 

Castis Vakarian, while initially apoplectic that his children had broken 52 rules - he’d kept count - had been instrumental in convincing the Primarch to send emissaries to the leaders of the other races. If those outside the Abyssal Forest were to create a society that worked with the natural environment, then it was up to turians to set the example, Castis had reasoned. 

This attitude had served to land the Vakarian patriarch the role of turian Councilor. His attention to detail and love of treaty drafting was something the other races were already vying to emulate.

Solana had likewise stayed among the outsiders. Her military expertise had made her a perfect fit for integrating turians within the Citadel forces. She was currently working closely with James Vega and the Human Alliance on a joint venture; the construction of a turian-human vessel which utilized magic to control the vast ocean gulfs separating the continents. 

Wrex had returned to his people, determined to enlighten them. He’d sent an envoy of krogan delegates to the Abyssal Forest to learn the inner workings of turian culture and diplomacy. “A civilization  _ that _ old has to be doing something right,” he’d informed the skeptics of his race. 

Garrus himself had admittedly stumbled into his role long before the fall of the Reapers. He was presently serving as the turian ambassador to the Human Alliance. He’d been working with them longer than anyone else, after all. 

Conversely, Jenna had also found herself playing the role of ambassador. It made visits to Cipritine far more interesting as they worked together to make the turian capital more hospitable to those from outside the forest. 

“So  _ ambassador  _ Vakarian,” Jenna teased from the sumptuous pillows of their bed. “Think you’ll have any free time to show your fiance around the light gardens today?” 

Garrus tossed her a flared-mandible grin.  _ “Hmm,” _ he pretended to consider.  _ “I dunno, it's pretty comfortable here. And the  _ view!” He let a lascivious purr slip from his throat as he rocked back on his heels to admire Jenna’s naked body.  _ “This is, without a doubt, the finest view in Cipritine,”  _ he stated solemnly. 

Jenna snorted, moving assuredly through the darkness over to him. “Now that I can see like you do, I might have to disagree,” she said, running the flats of her palms up his keel. “For being the land of perpetual midnight, I’ve never seen so much color. Cipritine ought to be renamed the Rainbow City.”

Garrus chuckled, pulling her into his arms as his aura fused with hers, the warm, comforting feeling of belonging coursing through his veins. Jenna was still human, but something had changed since their fateful meeting with Catalyst. She could see auras like a turian, but the biggest change was in the way she aged. 

In the months and now three years since the fall of the Reapers, Jenna didn’t seem to be gaining the gray hair, wrinkles, or other signs of age common to humans. Instead, she’d told him that she felt younger,  _ stronger. _ Especially at night. Then, one evening, she’d changed entirely. 

_ “Think you’re up to shift?” _ Garrus asked, pulling back to leave a gentle nip against her lips. 

“You tell me,” came the mischievous response. Her aura flared a deep apple red before igniting into a searing ruby. Ebony shadow rippled across her arms as her form became a thick, solid smoke, much like his own. Her green eyes stared back at him, still very much her own but now burning with an internal incandescence along the irises. 

_ “Still getting used to that,” _ she murmured, voice altered along with her body. She took a moment to admire her new form, flexing her fingers.

Instead of aging and dying as a typical human, Garrus believed that Jenna would age like one of his own people - enjoying a life lasting millennia. 

Wrex was initially suspicious of this transformation, believing Jenna had been cursed. He’d eventually come around though, saying something about how no magic could change who Jenna  _ truly _ was. 

For now, her abilities only manifested under the watchful gaze of the stars, or else the ether of the Abyssal Forest. They both wondered if one day the change would become permanent, but he supposed they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. 

_ “Shall we?”  _ Garrus asked, swirling around her in a miniature cyclone. 

Jenna laughed, morphing into a colossal dragonfly as she leapt from the window of the newly constructed hotel and into the dry, Cipritine breeze. Garrus flew close behind her, his shape resembling a giant, four-winged owl. 

Whether her transformation was a gift or a test, he didn’t know - or care. Whatever her form, he loved Jenna just as passionately as she did him. He looked forward to building a life together, both within and outside the Abyssal Forest. Their destinies were their own, now. And they had a lifetime to spend together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this fantasy twist on shakarian! And happiest of birthdays again to Squiggly. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Colossal thanks to S0me_Writer for beta reading this work.
> 
> Come say hello to me on Tumblr and Twitter: Wafflesrock16


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